Hikari no Futari A Couple's Guiding Light
by Asty
Summary: A woman finds herself whisked away to the world of the Four Gods where she meets her favorite seishi, Chichiri, a year before the arrival of Miaka and Taka. Marissa knows Chichiri's future, but what will be the costs to change it?
1. Read Me 4:6:06

4/06/2006:

I've really been rather rude, haven't I? Leaving this fic just hanging the way it is, shoving every thought about it to the back of my mind while I pursue other fandoms and other pairings and other writing adventures. I've felt nothing but guilt for the past year, thinking about the disappointment and sadness I must be causing when all I wanted to do with this story was invoke happiness and pleasure from reading it. I've frankly been amazed that people are still reviewing at all, still asking me to write more, still enjoying the story, and I think it's time I stop feeling bad and start feeling motivated.

I make no promises because my life is pretty busy and I seem to barely have any time to even write for my current fandoms, but I think this time around the lack of pressure I feel for this fic might aid me in getting something done. We'll see. This message is mostly for the intent to tell everyone that I am thinking of you, and of this story, and I'm beginning to realize that far more people than just myself care about what happens to this fic. Just because I know the outcome of the story doesn't mean everyone else does, and the desire to share that should have taken priority a long time ago.

For the curious, Hikari no Futari does have its own website -- http// hnf. akry. com/ -- with information, fanart, and some side-fics that might be of some interest to read.

I can't say when or how soon more of this story will appear, but I can promise that it will be _someday_, and I hope that's enough for now.

The Author


	2. Chapter 1: It's You

Summary: A woman finds herself whisked away to the world of the Four Gods where she meets her favorite seishi, Chichiri, a year before the arrival of Miaka and Taka. Marissa finds more at stake than there seems, because she knows the future, but what will be the costs to herself and the world if she tries to change it?

*Updates and other stories can be found at my webpage http://www.thecompendium.org

Author's notes: Hello everyone and welcome to my very long but highly interesting story of love, evil, gods, magic, some kick butt action, and as always characters you want to wring the life out of because they're so thick-headed. Thanks for this story go out to my aniki Trina-chan, who planted the first seeds of this tale in my mind and helped it to grow. Harmony and Tenmei, you two will always be god mothers of this fic. Riina, for kicking me in the butt when I needed it and helping to rewake my love of this story. Amy, my wonderful beta who's helped to breathe new life into this fic and blow off the dust from sitting on the shelf too long. And of course, the fans and the countless emails and reviews I've received over the past 3 years for this fic. Without you guys I don't think this tale would have gone beyond chapter 5. Thank you and enjoy!

Chapter 1 - It's You

_There's a treasury full of jade and jewels: it is in you  
Don't go searching far from home for it - it's here,  
Or you're like the man with a lantern looking for light,  
And can't you see what a total waste of time that is?_

Marissa flopped down on her bed and lay on her back, placing an arm over her eyes to shield out the bright afternoon sun that filtered through her window. _It's all over..._ She uncovered her eyes and looked at the clock that sat on her night stand. 3:47. Draping the arm over her face again she let out a loud sigh. _I don't want to think about it. School is over, it's summer... there's nothing more to worry about. _

Peeking out from under her arm, her eyes fell upon a familiar picture sitting on her wall. It was a head shot of her favorite anime character, Chichiri. Strangely, it brought her comfort and made her smile every time she looked at it. For a brief moment she could imagine that he was smiling at her, and only for her, caring for her as much as she cared for him. And even stranger, was that she swore the expression on his face changed from day to day. Today he was smiling his small, comforting smile and gave Marissa her first bit of light in an otherwise depressing day.

Pulling herself upright with a quiet huff she sat on the edge of her bed, the tips of her sneakers resting on the orange carpet, and snuck one more look at the picture. _Still smiling._ She couldn't help but throw back a smile at his concerned expression before tipping back her head to look out the window over her bed. Even with her face turned she could still feel those paper eyes boring into the back of her head, making her itch to suddenly turn around and could catch him with a different expression. Sometimes she could swear that she was in love with him. All the signs were there, the way her heart would contract while watching him on TV, how just staring at pictures of him made her feel calm and comforted. Deep inside though she knew it was totally illogical to fall in love with an anime character. It was a battle she was constantly waging between her heart and mind, the power of logic versus the strength of emotions. She still hadn't come to any decision on the matter. He made her happy, despite not being real, and that's all that mattered to her right now. 

It was a late sunny afternoon outside, with summer having begun a couple of days ago, the days growing warmer with each rise and setting of the sun. Marissa made a face at the bright orange globe, trying her best to look upset. _I hate hot weather. Why can't it rain?_ Eyes squinting shut she sighed, feeling the first tendrils of boredom begin to eat away at her mind, and fell backwards onto the bed to lay staring at her ceiling. 

_Mou, what to do? Without school I'll have no life to speak of whatsoever. You are a pathetic nerd, Mari, you know that right?_ Somehow the embarrassment of being rebuked by her inner thoughts managed to propel her body off the bed towards her bookshelf. _There's no better way to escape reality and let time slip away than by reading a good book,_ she proclaimed to herself, more than happy to solve all of her problems with the simple solution. She reached out to grab the first thing her fingers touched and looked down to see what had been pulled out. _Fushigi Yuugi? Gimme a break I can't even read 90% of the stuff in there._

Marissa cast another long look at her bookshelf, willing anything to pop out at her and beg to be read for the 10th time over. Nothing caught her eye though, so with a sigh she plopped down at her desk and let the small manga fall to the wooden top with a loud smack. A picture of Miaka holding The Universe of the Four Gods stared back up at Marissa. Somehow the thought of reading anything that focused mainly on the 'Whining Miko' made Mari's stomach queasy and longingly she looked back over to her shelf, tempted to yank out a volume that featured more, ahem, interesting reading material. _Like a certain hot springs scene,_ she thought with an inward grin.

Mind made up she turned in her chair and wedged the first manga back in its place, at the same time trying to remember just exactly which manga it was that contained the best pictures of her favorite guy. Fingers skimming over the yellow jackets she made her way down the row of thin books, hearing the japanese numbers echo in her mind. _Juu... ju-ichi... ju-ni... ju-san..._ At volume fourteen she paused, tapping the spine lightly with her index finger. _Was it this one or the next one..._

Reaching towards the next volume, she let out a grunt of surprise when her hand refused to obey the command she had given it. Her index finger remained where it was, pressed between the spines of volume fourteen and fifteen. A point of light flickered into existence at the tip of her finger, illuminating her nail and making it look pearlescent. _Wow, that's kind of pretty,_ Marissa thought bewilderedly, then let out a gasp as the point of silver light started to expand. The circle of light wavered and grew steadily larger, and she felt a light tugging on her hand as the top of her finger sank into the shimmering pool.

"Oh shit." Eyes widening she tried to yank her hand back - unsuccessfully. Another lurch forward and her hand sunk in up to her forearm, and the entire top shelf of her bookcase was covered with the shimmering silver light. It would have been a beautiful rainbow of mother of pearl if not for the fact that it was slowly sucking Marissa in limb by limb.

As her struggles increased the circle seemed to grow faster, soon reaching nearly to the floor and now across a third of her wall. A greater tug yanked on her hand and she pitched forward, her other arm flailing to grab a hold of anything. Her hand made contact with her computer chair, only to come away with the blue jacket that had been draped over the back of it clasped between her fingers. With a loud scream she felt herself dragged completely into the circle of light.

* * * * * * *

Everything shimmered around her, colors blending and dividing before her eyes, rippling like waves on a pool of mercury. Her mind was aware of neither time nor space. There was nothing, just her thoughts and the liquid light that enveloped her. She had no physical body, just a single soul existing within a void filled with beauty and endless boundaries. There was no fear or darkness, simply a warm womb that cradled her spirit and gently pushed her onward, guiding her through the light towards something. A future, a hope, a possibility. It beckoned her closer, a place that would welcome her and wrap her up in soft folds of peace and happiness, a place where she wouldn't have to cry or hide, accepted and included into a fate that gave her a home.

But something called to her. A voice. More now. Soft but there, a hum that was filling the void behind her. It rippled across the light, painting it with colors that made her soul spasm with worry. Pain and suffering. She pulled against the tide that was carrying her, reaching back towards the voices that called out. _I have to help them._ The light contracted, pulling her, dragging away from the cries that were slowly growing dimmer with distance. _No. Stop, I have to help them._ She pulled harder, wrenching herself free from the current, and felt a chill sweep over her soul as the light began to recede, continuing onward without her towards the place she had forgone. But the voices were louder now - crying, screaming, pleas, whimpers, whispered cries for help - and the light around her swirled and turned dark and cold with the power of their despair.

It was cold and alone, so much pain and suffering, she knew it was wrong, that it had to be stopped. She reached out, trying to find the way. _I'll help you._ There were no senses here, she couldn't see or feel, only think and will herself to move. The cries were growing louder as she traveled on, the light completely gone. She was falling now; she could feel it instinctively, faster and faster. The blackness wrapped around her like a suffocating cloak, dragging her down, immersing her in the screams that had replaced the crying. _Please, stop!_

A pinpoint of white light emerged below her, a glittering star within the darkness that offered relief. It slowly grew bigger then rushed up and surrounded her. This light wasn't warm though, it was harsh and biting, too bright for her eyes. It burned and hurt but she had no way to shut her eyes against it. Falling further there was a spasm of unexpected pain and she became aware of the rest of her body in one dizzying moment. Her stomach was tied in knots, her heart was thudding wildly, and her skin felt raw and exposed. Eyes stinging with tears she could feel her hair whipping against her face, like tiny icicles piercing her skin with each lash. The sound of someone screaming began echoing all around her and belatedly Marissa realized it was her own voice creating the horrible sound. With a choked cry she shut her eyes against the light, waiting for the inevitable. 

* * * * * * *

It was shockingly cool and a great pressure pressed against her ears, like the wind being sucked out of a room too fast. Her eyes snapped open and the breath she had wanted to take caught in her throat at the sight of blue-green all around her. There was no up or down and a strong feeling of nausea nearly overtook her, her head spinning at the sudden loss of direction. Flailing her arms around she felt herself rotating sickeningly, the contents of her stomach having nearly moved into her mouth, and realized with a start where she was. _I'm... underwater!_

Feeling her lungs sting with trapped air and the need to vomit growing greater she looked around, searching for anything to reveal her orientation. Below her and just behind her left knee she spotted a glimmer of light and began kicking desperately in that direction, eyes trained on the ripples of gold that broke through the surface of the water, promising release for her burning lungs. Legs nearly ready to give out she breached the surface, sucking in deep breaths air around the wracking coughs that shook her body. A moan escaped her lips at the pain which was coursing through her limbs, oxygen starved blood making a burning path through her muscles. Struggling to stay afloat she rubbed the water from her eyes and the snot from her nose, blinking as her pupils adjusted to the brightness. Her surrounding slowly became clear and she saw that she was floating in the middle of a large pond surrounded on all sides by tall trees. A bank of the pond was only a couple of yards away and beyond that was a small grassy area with trees that offered shade from the harsh sunlight. 

Still coughing, Marissa took a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart before slowly swimming to the edge of the pond, now noticing just how heavy her clothes were as she dragged herself through the water. With a grunt she clutched at the muddy bank and pulled herself onto the grass, swallowing down the urge to retch as her hands found purchase. She crawled on hands and knees towards the grove of trees, stopping to rest a few feet away from the shady perimeter, exhaustion taking over her body. Slumping to the ground she turned over, her wet back pressed against the warm grass while she gazed up at the sky, finally feeling the wave of nausea begin to subside. _Where in the world am I?_

It was mid afternoon by the position of the sun, bright and warm as it filtered down through the treetops and turned its yellow eye on the pond which was secluded in a clearing fully surrounded on all sides by tall, leafy trees. Sounds of the forest came to her water clogged ears, birds twittering and calling amongst each other, the faint buzz and hum of insect life and small animals scurrying beneath the brush out of sight. It was quiet peaceful, like a secluded land untouched by the hand of technology or civilization, every city dweller's dream that yearned for a spot of land where nature, not concrete, reigned supreme.

It would have been a very pleasant experience if not for the fact that Marissa was sure she had fallen from the sky right into the pond before her, and had only been sitting in her bedroom moments before that. Feeling her strength returning she pushed herself upright and peeled off her shoes and socks, dropping them beside the dark blue heap that was her jacket. Ironically, she had been clutching it the whole time. She stretched out her legs, regretting for the first time that she had chosen to wear jeans today, and leaned back in her arms, letting the sun bath her to speed up the drying of her clothing.

Leaning her head back she looked up at the sky, a sprinkle of green leaves in the highest boughs just at the top of her vision. A pristine blue sea dotted with white puffy clouds greeted her eyes, unmarred by haze or smog, the kind of beautiful day one would find in the high desert or out in the countryside. A few birds flew through her line of sight after a moment, so high in the sky that they appeared only as black Vs against the blue backdrop, their shrill calls reaching her ears moments after they had passed out of sight. 

Shutting her eyes against the strangely calming scene she struggled to piece the situation together in her mind. _Where the hell am I? How could I possibly be here, wasn't I was just in my room a few seconds ago? Alright Mari, think. What were you doing? Going to read, and then... a light. I swear I saw a light! But... dammit what happened after that?_

Fidgeting on the grass Marissa dug her fingers into the soil under her hands, feeling the blades give way to warm dirt. _It's a dream. This has got to be a dream. That light... maybe I had a migraine and passed out and now I'm dreaming. Alright, so you've never had a migraine before but things can happen, like that movie with John Travolta. You saw a light, brought on by stress and hopefully nothing more, and now you're lying on your bedroom floor waiting to wake up._

Peeking open her eyes slowly Marissa looked around once more, biting down on her lower lip as an unnerving feeling of anxiety began to overtake her. _Shit... this really doesn't feel like a dream though._

Despite the soaked state of her clothing she pushed herself off the grass and snatched up her jacket, stuffing her damp socks in the pockets and slipping on her shoes without lacing them. _Alright, if this is a dream, it's time to take a walk and find the end of it._

Eyes paying close attention to every detail around her, she made a circuit of the entire pond, passing by a rocky outcropping at one end of the somewhat rectangular looking body of water. After walking the whole way around and finding no apparent path or road or any sign of civilization, Marissa turned and headed back towards the rock. If she came upon the area again, at least she'd know where she started from. Passing by the flat stone she entered the grove of trees, feeling a noticeable drop in temperature once inside the sheltering foliage. She picked her way past bushes and tree trunks and worked her way deeper into the forest, stepping over fallen trunks and boulders covered with heavy moss. The light began to grow dimmer as she walked and soon the treetops blocked out the sun's light entirely, creating an eerie world beneath the branches, neither of day nor night. The sound of wings flapping or the heavy rustle of leaves was all that Marissa could hear as she walked through the maze of trees.

Stepping out from behind a particularly large tree she stopped, having come upon a small grassy clearing in the middle of the forest. She found her inner artist rising to the surface to take an appreciative look at the way the sun filtered in through the tree tops, golden rays of light sparkling with dust particles that touched the leaf covered forest floor. It was beautifully surreal, and Marissa saw no harm in stopping to consider which direction to head in next. That was until she heard a noise in the brush to her left.

"Hello? Hey... is someone there?" She stepped fully into the clearing, making her way towards the line of trees where the noise had come from. _It's probably just some animal..._

* * * * * * *

Chichiri pulled the door closed behind him and stepped away from the small house he had just come out of. He took in a deep breath of the afternoon air, the smile already on his face growing larger with satisfaction. Gripping the fishing pole he was carrying a bit tighter, he set out for the woods that stood alongside the road that ran in front of the house. 

Though his face was masked by only happiness and joy, Chichiri carried with him important experience, knowledge, and pain that he had gained in his 25 years of living. Being a Suzaku seishi had taught him many things and he was grateful for the three years he had spent training under Taiitsukun. They had prepared him for the challenges that he had faced while fighting to protect his Miko and his country. 

Even though the fighting had ended a year ago he was still a hero among his countrymen, so he had inevitably chosen to retain his life of a monk and wanderer, never tied down or held back by anything. He could go where he pleased and do whatever his heart desired, usually being welcomed with open arms into the most rural of areas. His fame had spread that far. For now he planned to make this abandoned house his home for a few days. It was close to a large town located down the road, but far enough out of the way so that he could have the peace and quiet he wanted. 

Chichiri stepped into the woods and made his way down a path that he had traveled several times before during the last couple of days. It was heavily overgrown, and infrequent use had caused the "path" to merely be a route that Chichiri had memorized in his head. He maneuvered his way past familiar trees and bushes, and was halfway through with his walk when he heard a terrified scream come from somewhere in the woods. 

Looking around, Chichiri tried to pinpoint where the scream had originated from. He began to wonder if his mind had only imagined the sound, when it emanated from the woods once more, this time longer and expressing more pain. Feet moving before he even had time to think, Chichiri began running in the direction the scream had come from. Silence now met his ears, and his mind raced with thoughts of what might have happened. The silence quickly became even more dreadful then the screaming, as the lack of it meant that whoever had been hurt might already be dead. 

In just a few minutes he emerged breathless upon a clearing in the woods, his eye brows arching high with horror at the scene in front of him. A giant, glistening, purple scaled monster filled the entire clearing. Its sharply spiked tail swished around like a cat's, giving it the balance to stand up on its massive hind legs, each one ending in a set of wickedly sharp looking toenails. Both long forearms ended in three, heavily jointed claws, and he noticed with dismay that one was flecked with blood and bits of fabric. Its head was enormous, hanging low to the ground with two sets of black beady eyes on either side that blinked with eyelids which moved from left to right. Its mouth was stuck in a permanent snarl, saliva dripping in disgustingly large globs between rows upon rows of dreadfully sharp teeth. Chichiri forced his eyes to pull away from the monster and focus on what lay unmoving on the ground in front of it. A mass of hair, fabric, and blood was all that met his eyes.

Now he knew what had cried out so painfully, and whoever it was, was now injured and in need of his help. The monster bent lower towards its victim and scooped it up in one of its massive hands, raising the body toward the gaping black abyss that would swallow it whole. Chichiri thrust his fishing pole forward and picked up the end of his necklace with his thumb, placing his index and middle fingers together in front of his mouth. His fishing pole wasn't his staff, but its channeling ability would serve the same purpose. He concentrated and whispered a few words as the monster prepared to drop the body into its open mouth, summoning up a large amount of ki to make sure that his aim was true and nondestructive to the body he was trying to save. In the span of one precious second the spell came full circle, and like the power of a bullet being fired from its barrel, Chichiri released a wave of energy bolts toward the monster. 

The weapons hit their mark and the monster was enveloped in yellow filaments of electricity, spidery bolts that arced high into the air before returning to stab the creature, the smell of ozone and charred flesh rolling through the clearing. When the magic finally died away the monster stood paralyzed for a moment, then crumpled and fell to the ground with a loud groan, the trees around Chichiri shuddering under the force of the impact. The remains began to smoke and within a few seconds the entire corpse suddenly cracked to pieces, the broken bits collapsing in on each other as they dissipated into the air.

Chichiri ran over to the motionless body that had been tossed several feet by the falling monster and hunched down beside it. Setting down his fishing pole he reached out carefully with both hands, grasping the person gently by the shoulders to turn them over. Brushing away dark red hair he was surprised to see the heavily scratched face of a young woman. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing with difficulty, each rise and fall of her chest emitting raspy moans that shook her unconscious body.

_Thank Suzaku she's alive,_ Chichiri thought, exhaling with relief. He slowly and gingerly pulled at the blood soaked pieces of clothing to see the real damage that had been done. Her face and arms were covered with scrapes and bruises, a few somewhat serious cuts oozing bright red across one arm and her ribcage, but the worse wound was on her right leg. A long, deep gash across her right thigh was the source of most of the blood and was still bleeding uncontrollably, the cut extending all the way down to the yellow bone underneath. 

Realizing the need for urgency Chichiri took the kasa off his back and placed it upside down on the grass. He quickly gathered the girl in his arms, hoping that there were no broken bones among the mess of bruises and blood. At the movement the girl's head fell against his chest, a low moan of pain escaping her lips, and the harsh quality to her breathing quickly worsened. Worriedly Chichiri looked down at her scratched face, but her eyes remained closed and only shut themselves tighter with the pain of her injury, bits of her hair clinging to the blood that was beading against her skin. Using his ki he summoned his fishing pole to follow them, along with a dark blue article of clothing he assumed belonged to her, and jumped inside the kasa.  



	3. Chapter 2: The Unknown Story

Chapter 2 - The Unknown Story  
  
_In autumn, the leaves flake from the phoenix tree  
And the travelers come home like birds migrating...  
The workmen thank Heaven who is their protection -  
And a vessel full of treasure is borne home on the wind._

Darkness.  Smooth, welcoming, enfolding darkness.  There was no pain to hide from, no terrors to shut her eyes to.  Something was slipping away but she didn't care, couldn't care, didn't want to care right now.  Memories were slipping through her consciousness and that made her happy, warmer, relieved that they were being taken away by a force she didn't pause to understand.  A tiny piece of her was questioning however, looking on with wide, skeptical eyes; asking if this was ok, was it _right_?  But the rest of her wanted them gone where they could no longer hurt her, so deep down the memories sunk, locked tight in darkness that only time and sheer will could hope to remove in the future.  
  
Then something stirred, a sensation she would rather ignore.  It was too much like what she had been trying to forget.  It came again.  Stronger this time, sizzling her mind for a brief moment before subsiding and letting her drift back into darkness.  A second or an eternity later a shower of sparks burst behind her eyelids as another jolt of pain rushed through her, bringing with it keen awareness and a sudden jar to reality that tore a strangled scream from her throat.  
  
Her eyes flew open as she gasped, black pupils wide and unable to focus, the sensations so overwhelming in their unexpected rush that it made comprehension impossible.  Something cool was put against her forehead and she squeezed her eyes shut again, blocking the light and bringing back the welcomed darkness.  There were sounds, a voice speaking, but the words were unfamiliar and moved in a pattern she couldn't discern.  She felt the sensation of her leg being moved before suddenly the pain became unbearable, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her body that urged her muscles to curl up and escape from the hurt.  
  
Fractured and hysterical thoughts flooded her mind, the inner voice of a little girl frightened beyond belief_.  Just let me die, let me die, no no no!_   Her plea came out instead as a strangled moan while something heavy held her down, restraining her efforts to wrench free.  
  
The voice came again - stronger, more authoritative - but she still couldn't comprehend the words.  The pain in her lower body was overwhelming and felt like cold fire spreading through her nerves, constricting her lungs and squeezing her heart until she gasped aloud through the tears squeezing from the corners of her eyes.  Pain had never felt this intense - it had to be death, she had to be dying - and another moan escaped her at the frightening thought of her impending demise.  Something dry and slightly calloused replaced the coldness against her forehead and she felt more than heard the voice speak somewhere near her right cheek.  A flood of warmth trickled its way through her body from her forehead down, like a gentle rolling wave that banished the pain in every corner it reached.  With a soft sob of relief Marissa felt her muscles relax from their strained positions and the heavy pressure on her chest lift away.  Before slipping back into unconsciousness, two simple sounds from the spoken words clung to her last fuzzy thoughts and held on firmly.  _No da…?  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
_Chichiri opened his eyes and glanced slowly about the room.  His gaze finally rested on the small, single window against the far wall and he squinted at the early morning sunlight which filtered through in soft golden bars.  Sitting up from the slouched position he had slept in he arched his back, fingers clenching atop his knees as he stretched his stiff body.  He had slept in a chair next to the bed all night, keeping a vigil on the young woman that now slumbered peacefully within it.  Standing up slowly, Chichiri paused at the bedside and focused on the sleeping girl, a look of careful contemplation taking over his masked face.  
  
It had been a rough day yesterday, to say the least.  Once he had gotten them back to the house in the fading twilight he'd immediately put her in bed and worked on repairing the wound which had torn open her leg.  He'd offered a silent thanks to Mitsukake for the small amount of medicine he'd learned from the gifted healer before making sure this woman didn't die on him.  The house's stores had provided him with the ingredients needed to numb the area and clean it thoroughly, but it was his contribution of heavily applied ki that managed put the woman into a deep sleep after she'd woken up and nearly managed to take his arm off in her delirious struggles.  
  
The wound had been frighteningly deep, but the bone hadn't been damaged and no major arteries were cut; which had only left the problem of sewing the muscle and skin back into place.  Something easier visualized than done, Chichiri had soon realized.  Thread and needle were easy to locate among the cottage's supplies, but aligning pieces of ripped muscle was completely new territory for him.  For all his years and the short time spent with Mitsukake, the need for surgery had never arisen.  It was common that in a situation as precarious as this, one either depended completely on magic, or let fate take over and guide the injured with her spidery hand.  
  
Never having felt too charitable to fate Chichiri had set to work with blood covered fingers, going entirely on intuition and common sense to repair the monster's damage.  When the pile of blood soaked fabric had reached as tall as his calf the wound was finally closed, muscle and skin crisscrossed inside and out by bits of black thread.  But despite what appeared on the outside to be a job well done, his biggest worry was that the girl might not be able to walk on her leg ever again.  Because of the deeply torn muscle even the most skilled of doctors would have been hard pressed to return a leg damaged that badly to its original condition.  The most he could hope for was for her to have a slight limp, but the use of a cane or staff was inevitable.  In the worst case she would have an extremely awkward gait, with scarring and a disfigured appearance above the knee.  Absently, Chichiri's hand rose to run a finger along the edge of his mask.  People would most definitely notice, and make her uncomfortable, and maybe even call her names in their ignorance.  He could sympathize completely.  
  
Placing a hand on her pale forehead Chichiri showed the faintest smile when he felt no sign of a fever.  That seemed to be one side affect he'd escaped having to deal with, at least for now.  He'd seen infections spring up in the healthiest looking of wounds in the past that led to pain, swelling, and in worst cases gangrene.  It was a depressing thought that this person would be made to suffer and require his constant vigilance for the next few weeks.  He didn't resent her for being injured, the desperation to save a life was almost euphoric when one managed to succeed, but he did feel remorse over not being able to spare her the pain the next weeks would bring_.  If only Mitsukake were here,_ he found himself thinking again.  He would try his hardest to keep this girl alive, not only for his sworn duty to protect life in all its forms, but also for the curiosity she invoked in him.  She was most definitely not of this world.  
  
The evidence hadn't been apparent at first, not with him rushing about the house trying to find a way to stop the bleeding and gathering all the tools he had available to him.  He'd finally taken notice later, after the blood soaked pants had been ripped away and the woman's strange underclothes managed to catch his attention.  It had only taken a few moments before he recalled just where he'd seen them once before, though a bit smaller and of a different color at the time.  While touring the palace grounds by himself back in Konan one of his fated run-ins had been with a clothing line on which hung some unusual pieces fluttering in the wind.  It was only after he'd been chased away by the maid and told not to stare at the Miko's underwear that he realized what they were.  And this woman lying before him had been wearing the exact same items.  
  
Briefly he'd pondered the possibility of her being another Miko.  But that explanation seemed highly unlikely.  As far as anyone knew all the Mikos had all been called with the Suzaku and Seriyuu no Miko returning to their world.  The cycle of the Mikos was not to begin again for a very long time, if ever.  Legend only told of the Genbu and Byakko no Miko having arrived in their world before Miaka and Yui.  Perhaps the cycle had ended now, or would begin again in a time when his present would become a nearly forgotten past.  No one knew for sure; except perhaps Taiitsukun, but that deity made it as difficult as pulling teeth when information was sought.  Chichiri realized the answers to this mystery would be slow coming.  
  
Yet they were questions that would have to remain unanswered for the time being.  A catatonic person could hardly offer up their secrets.  Bending at the knees Chichiri retrieved a shallow bowl half filled with darkened water from beside the bed and left the room, returning a moment later with the bowl now full of clean water and carefully held between his hands.  Kneeling on the wooden floor he picked up a small cloth that had been sitting beside the bowl, faint splotches of red crusted over it, and soaked it thoroughly until all the red stains had washed out.  After wringing it out he gently dabbed the material on the girl's face, cleaning away the blood that had dried on her forehead and over the cut on her split lip.  She'd taken a hard blow to her head sometime during the attack, that evidence made prominent by the two inch scratch extending from her hairline towards one eyebrow.  The gash on her forehead appeared to be healing easily, while her lower lip was still swollen and a nasty color of dark red.  Chichiri had to bite back a smile at the slightly comical look it created, she was bound to be unable to talk properly for a few days while it healed.  
  
Soaking the cloth again he pulled down the blanket that had been lying across her collar bone, letting it settle over the curve of her stomach.  In his hasty treatment of her leg the evening before it had slipped his mind to bother checking for any other minor injuries.  Scratches and light bruising seemed to be all she had endured despite the torn leg, but he knew the price for thinking so optimistically might lead to a serious internal injury being overlooked.  At the moment she only wore one of his spare shirts, its total length reaching to just above her knees, having been the only thing he could find on short notice while her other clothing endured a good soak to remove the blood and grass stains.   Despite his chaste lifestyle and having dealt with injured in the past, the process of unclothing her had left its impression by the red that tainted his ears the entire time.  
  
Gently rolling up the right sleeve he examined her arm, wiping the cloth over her hand and under her dirt imbedded fingernails.  He repeated the same to her left arm, finding that both of her hands were slightly lacerated across the palm, grass and dirt pressed into angry red burns that were centered on the pads above her wrist.  It looked like she'd taken a few hard tumbles onto the ground.  Chichiri sighed inwardly.  Every scratch was silent proof of the horrors this girl had endured.  She continued to sleep peacefully through these examinations, lending to his relief that nothing more serious was being found.  Lastly he pulled up the hem of the garment until her pale stomach and ribs were visible in the morning light.  A frown fell over his face at the sight of a palm sized bruise spreading over the right side of her ribcage.  Gingerly he probed around the area, feeling nothing shift or out of place, but with a firmer push he felt the girl take in a quick breath.  It seemed safe to assume that her ribs weren't broken, just badly bruised, as she continued to slumber once he removed his hand.  A final inspection revealed nothing more threatening than a blossoming bruise on her hip and another just above her left knee, the compounding number of bruises sure to leave her in pain for awhile.  
  
Pulling down the shirt to cover her modesty he carefully began to remove the bands around her right leg, wincing in sympathy as the girl began to stir and her breathing quickened.  Mindful to be quick he finished removing the fabric and wiped away the fresh blood accumulated between the stitches, taking care not to disturb them.  Rewrapping the injury with clean bandages was a lesson in moving her leg as little as possible, accentuated by the tiny whimpers working their way from her throat.  Worried she might wake he finished and stretched out his hand to place over her forehead, dousing her aura with a warm burst of ki that calmed her breathing and set her back into a deep, healing sleep.  Understandably tired Chichiri picked up the bowl and blood soaked wrappings and walked through the bedroom's only door, intent on finding himself a warm meal and a few moments of uninterrupted thought.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
Several days later Marissa slowly opened her eyes, the great effort it took surprising her, and looked around herself with her first conscious thought since the incident.  
  
_Where am I?   
  
_Her eyes focused themselves blearily on the wood ceiling, taking stock of her mental faculties and the muted sensations present across her body.  Her right leg was throbbing, not painfully, but like the blood was being gently blocked off.  She attempted to move the limb and hissed in sudden pain, pressing her lips together until the sharp ache subsided.  Wiggling the fingers of her right hand she reached down and skimmed across the wrappings around her thigh.  Reluctantly she pulled back after a moment and made an effort to find out if there were any other painful surprises waiting for her.  Toes and fingers wiggled without repercussion, her arms seemed ok if a bit itchy, and a dull ache on her left hip warned her against turning over in that direction.  
  
Satisfied for the moment, Marissa settled herself with surveying the room once she found she could turn her head without pain.  It was small and rustic, looking barely lived in if not for the measure of cleanliness it portrayed.  One window with shutters open to the afternoon air stood on the wall opposite the bed, a wooden chair resting just underneath it.  On the wall between the bed and window a door stood closed and appeared to be latched from the inside, a loop of string passing through a small hole and through to the other side.  She could just barely hear low sounds coming from beyond the door.  
  
Wetting her lips with her tongue she realized how thirsty she was.  Spotting nothing to drink immediately she made an effort to rise up on her elbows, wincing as the movement brought a few other sore areas to light.  She managed to push herself into a sitting position and leaned back wearily on the pillow under her back, amazed at how exhausted she felt just from the small movements.  Looking about the room again she was disappointed to see nothing like a glass of water to ease her thirst, but she did notice her new garments now that the blanket she'd been sleeping under had fallen to rest on her stomach.  It was a creamy colored tunic made of wool that extended almost to her knees, the front pieces held together by a small loop and button on her right shoulder.  Something about the design seemed familiar but she shook away the nagging thought; it hurt too much to do any thinking right now.  
  
She was debating on calling out, as the noises behind the door had yet to cease, when the latch rattled in its cradle and swung up.  The door opened and Marissa stifled a yelp, feeling both foolish and scared for being so jumpy.  It was at the sight of who walked through the door however that wrenched a startled squeak from her throat that sounded much weaker than she'd intended it to.  
  
The man wore a shirt similar in style and color to the one she was wearing and forest green pants that extended to his bare feet.  A red sash sat snugly around his waist and a peculiar set of large prayer beads rested on his shoulders and across his chest, the polished spheres almost luminescent in the sunlight.  But it was his hair… his blue hair, that made Marissa's breathing speed up.  The hair was shaved close to his head save for a set of messy bangs that curved up then fell almost playfully over the right side of his face.  His smiling, masked face.  
  
Her mouth went dry and only one thought seemed able to make itself clear in her head.  _Oh, my, god… some freak is dressed up like Chichiri!  
  
_"Konnichiwa na no da!  Omae wa hiru gohan ga hoshi no da?"  
  
At his unexpected words she swallowed another squeak felt her eyes go wide, looking his attire up and down with trepidation.  _Great job on the clothes, but what's with the impersonation?  
  
_Under her scrutiny he seemed to grow a little uncomfortable and made to move further into the room.  Startled, Marissa shrunk further onto the bed and raised her right hand palm forward, both a greeting and a warning to stop.  
  
"Hi," she whispered uncomfortably, feeling her throat scratch.  
  
He seemed to realize her discomfort and stepped out of the room, appearing a moment later with a wooden cup in one hand.  More aware of her fear than she gave him credit for, he approached the bed slowly and handed her the cup of water, which she gratefully drained in a few healthy sips.  Passing back the cup she moved to sit up straighter, drawing the worn blanket closer and feeling immensely self conscious in front of this man who was doing a freakishly good job at impersonating her favorite seishi.  
  
It would have been amusing if she hadn't been so scared, the way he stood there with his arms dangling and looking a bit lost at what to do next.  He seemed to make up his mind after a moment though and left the room, returning again with a full cup of the cool water.  This time he gave her the cup then pulled the single chair closer to the bed, letting it rest at what felt like a polite distance away that still allowed conversation.  
  
"Thank you," she murmured, taking another sip of the water to emphasize her point.  When he didn't respond, just watched her, she felt her face flush.  "And I guess, thanks for all this."  She gestured to include the bed, her clothes, and her bandaged leg.  Still he didn't respond and her hand that wasn't holding the cup gripped the blanket tighter.  _What is this guy's deal?  
  
_"I really appreciate everything and I'm sorry if I'm being a bother but, why are you dressed like that?  And where am I for that matter?  I'd really like some answers, please."  
  
"Ano…" the man finally said, though it was more a confused sound than a word.  "Omae wa nihongo wo hanashimasu no da?"  
  
"Look, I don't understand much Japanese," Marissa replied, pushing down her rising irritation.  "Why don't you stop and tell me where I am.  My name's Marissa, by the way."  
  
Another completely blank look met her searching gaze.  "Marissa," she repeated, pointing to herself and feeling like an utter fool for doing so.  This guy was going to start laughing any moment now.  
  
"Ah wakatta no da.  Oira Chichiri toiu no da."  
  
Furrowing her brow in annoyance, she was cheered by seeing the man lean back and look uncertain, his hand rising to scratch at the back of his neck where the long blue pony tail began.  His behavior was so uncannily like Chichiri's she was torn between being impressed and angry, though anger was quickly winning as the awkward moment stretched on.  
  
"Would you stop it, _Chichiri_," she sneered, and was rewarded with the man looking taken aback by her tone.  "I don't find this funny at all, and I want you to tell me right now what the hell is going on!"  
  
Startled into moving he got up and approached her bedside, capturing the wrist of her hand that was starting to gesture wildly with her words.  "Heki, heki no da," he pleaded softly, the penciled brows and mouth on his mask turned down into concerned frowns.  
  
Something was flickering in her mind, a forgotten memory struggling to break free, and the longer she stared at the masked face she felt the fragile pieces of something begin to crumble.  The mask... his face... it was smiling before, wasn't it?  
  
"Oh... my, god," she breathed, feeling her exhaled breath hitch in her throat.  The rising panic at her realization was quickly giving way to frustration and denial.  Memories were coming back in a rush now - the glowing light, being pulled in, falling and nearly drowning, of pulling herself from the water, of searching, of pain and screams and bright lights…  
  
With a tremble and an eerie detachment she watched him reach up and pull away the mask, the movement seeming to stretch out for breathless seconds before the face underneath was revealed.  One eye open, bright, an impossible color of amethyst stared back in deep concern, and where the other eye should have been...  
  
"No no, no!" she wailed, wrenching her hand free of his and twisting to retreat from the impossible sight.  The sudden movement drew a startled yelp from her as her leg, hip, and ribcage protested in sudden and excruciating pain.  With a sob she fell back onto the mattress, tears streaking down her cheeks from the intense pain and the emotional turmoil rolling through her head.  _It's not true, no it's not true, not true!  
  
_Still perched on the edge of the bed Chichiri quickly stilled one of her flailing arms and placed his other hand over her forehead, subduing her aura with a controlled burst of ki that sent her almost immediately into a deep sleep.  Thoroughly confused and a little disconcerted he gently took her by the shoulders and rearranged her on the bed so that her head was resting on the pillow.  The tear tracks on her face continued to make their way towards her chin as they slowly dried in the afternoon air, and Chichiri found himself emotionally sympathetic to her discomfort and the pain she was enduring.  
  
Her reaction to him however was another mysterious matter entirely.  He'd had people react unpleasantly to his unmasked face before, but this felt like something else.  She had been shaking her head, saying one word over and over, which by its tone sounded very close to the meaning of no.  There was the question, 'no' what?  And not just that, but what language had she been speaking?  He hadn't recognized a single word through it and she'd seemed not much better off when it came to comprehending what he'd said in return.  How was he going to find out who she was and where she came from if they couldn't even understand each other?  
  
A thoughtful frown crossed his unmasked face and he turned to sit gently on the edge of the bed, turning the paper visage over in his hands while he debated on what to do.  Several minutes passed before Chichiri rose and busied himself with straightening the bedding, placing her arms on top of the blankets and making sure her bandages were still intact around her thigh.  When he finished he stared down at her pale slumbering face before sighing softly, hating himself for having to make this decision but knowing that it was inevitably the only way to solve their dilemma.  
  
Sitting down on the edge of the bed once more he leaned forward and cupped the sides of her head in his two hands, thumbs unintentionally brushing away the last of her salty tears as he cradled her face.  Skin to skin his finger tips made contact with her temple, cheek, and back of her neck, resembling a lover's caress if not for the look of intense concentration that had settled over his features.  With a deep, focusing breath he forged a connection between their auras and dived into her slumbering mind, offering up a feeble apology for the breach he was about to commit.  
  
Her resistance was minimal, a full mine so easy to pluck information and images from; it was like entering a labyrinth he already knew all the answers to.  There were dark and light areas, spots littered with vibrant rainbows, patchy clouds of diffused gray, and literally thousands of memories stretching before his consciousness.  All too aware of the invasion of privacy he was committing he was hasty to seek out the memories he was looking for - images and moments from birth through early childhood of learning a language he was determined to understand.  He immersed himself in the memories, letting his own consciousness adopt their shadows for himself, relieving the days and years in her past as she grew to better know her own language.  Many of the images made little sense, jumbled with impressions of places, faces, and objects he couldn't begin to comprehend.  But he plowed ahead and fought through his confusion to focus on the task at hand – learning a language in a matter of minutes that had taken her years to master.  
  
Finally, after what could have been hours or a matter of minutes, he felt himself ready to deal with the new situation at hand.  Withdrawing through her mind he paid extra care to avoid her most recent memories, some burning such an intense color of emotion that it took a measure of willpower to keep his curiosity in check.  When he was completely back in his own mind he opened his eye and felt his face flush when he saw how close their faces had come together while he'd investigated her memories.  Sitting up slowly his hands withdrew from her head and fisted on his lap, his one eye staring down with a look of deep remorse.  
  
"Please forgive me," he apologized softly in English, before rising and leaving the slumbering woman to her dreams.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
_She was a rabbit.  I was a rabbit.  I am a rabbit.  I run across the open field toward my burrow, not aware of any danger, only the freedom of mobility and the wind rishing past my ears and over my short fur.  A dark hole looms open before me but I do no hesistate, for it is my home.  The walls are snug around my body as I crawl inside, reaching an open chamber with wilting greens in one corner and my litter of children in another.  They are still small but getting bigger every day, and I feel my maternal love for them swelling inside my tiny bosom.  My ears twitch as I listen to their high pitched cries of recognition, their short paws still moving awkwardly as they tumble over each other to reach my side.  I can feel their warm bodies pressed against mine, the smooth touch of their newly grown fur, their healthy heart beats, and I am filled with pride for the children I have raised so carefully.  They no longer need to suckle but some of them still nuzzle at my abdomen, finding comfort in the actions from their first weeks of living.  
  
My nose is always working and I sense a strong odor on the air, one that makes my body tense and my heart beat faster.  I know there is danger though I do not know from what or where.  I make high noises in my throat that herd my children towards the back of the burrow and into a small alcove where I know they will be safe.  It is none too soon for the loud indrawn breath of a wolf sniffing near the front of my burrow echoes through the chamber.  Dirt begins to fly as his paws scrape at the ground and his snout attempts to thrust its way through the hole.  He has followed my trail back, but unlike many others he is persistent and digging deeper and more desperately for the blood he craves.  A long forearm covered with dirt and gray hair is pushed through the hole, the claws deadly and sharp as the limb thrashes about, seeking to catch a meal off guard.  
  
My children whimper in fright and I realize that if I do not do something soon he will break into our home and eat us all.  I will not let him have my children.  Knowing what I must do I move along the back of the burrow, narrowly avoiding another set of razor sharp claws, and slither out the back hole which leads above ground some distance away.  I emerge into bright sunlight and turn to see our attacker, boney haunches in the air and muzzle buried in the dirt, snapping furiously for the meat he can smell underground.  Making as much noise as possible I scamper through the dry grass, moving away from my burrow.  As I had expected the wolf's ears hear my paws hitting the dirt and in a flash he is after me, teeth snapping at my hind legs as we dart across the ground.  I must lead him away from my burrow as far as possible so that he will not remember to return and eat my children.  We are soon far enough away but I do not give up, no matter how quick my heart beats or how painfully it smacks my ribcage.  
  
We round a low bush and I find my paws no longer obeying me as my back legs hit a high exposed root.  I am thrown off balance and go tumbling over the ground with the wolf fast behind me ready to pounce.  In one powerful swoop he clamps down on his prize, shaking me to and fro between his teeth as I struggle and gasp for air.  I feel the skin break as my life blood begins to flow and with a sickening crack I know my neck has broken, then all is black.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
_The next time Marissa awoke the sun was just beginning to peek over the eastern hills, painting the sky with splashes of pink and orange that made the air and trees glow golden in the dawn.  Enough light crept through her north facing window to lend a shadowy air to the small bedroom, the temperature still low and with a hint of a chill.  Beside her bed a short table had been brought in, an empty cup and a pitcher of water waiting for her when she awakened.  Thinking only of her incredible thirst she tried not to shiver as she poured the water and brought the cup to her lips, a distant part of her mind remarking on how clean and fresh the water tasted.  
  
Settling back onto the bed once she had her fill, Marissa felt her mind beginning to wake up and recall the previous day.  The how and the why seemed pointless to speculate on, the only truth apparent to her was that she was here, in Fushigi Yuugi, and Chichiri had been the one to find and take care of her.  The irony of it made her sigh inwardly.  A sense of lingering embarrassment settled in her stomach at the memory of her behavior, a reaction that at the time seemed to make perfect sense.  It was completely unrealistic, to actually be within the pages of a book and face to face with a living, breathing, person who she'd only seen on paper and on a screen until yesterday.  Somehow she couldn't imagine anyone reacting much differently, being confused and in denial over the whole preposterous notion.  But after what had happened in her room, the bright light and the vague memories of what had happened after, it seemed not so fantastical in retrospect.  
  
_What am I going to do?_ she found herself wondering.  
  
_Sleep more,_ she decided after a quiet pause in her thoughts when no solutions were forthcoming.  Pulling the blanket up tighter around her shoulders, her last reflection before drifting off was that she hoped the baby rabbits had made it out okay.A/N: Special thanks to Neko for keeping my Japanese passable. 


	4. Chapter 3: Morality

  
  
Chapter 3 – Morality  
  
_In everything you do, live for the truth -  
Your words should be clear and your actions substantial;  
Don't have ideas in your heart that are not discernible,  
Stand at the centre like the bright rays pouring from the sun!_

Close to noon later that day it was a sandpaper-like tongue licking her face that awoke Marissa. Blinking in confusion, her brown eyes came to rest on the cream and tan spotted cat leaning against her shoulder and sharing his morning bath with her right cheek. Chuckling, she reached up and interrupted his grooming with a heavy pet down his back that immediately sent the small cat purring with delight.  
  
"Tama-chan, I presume," she said quietly, her eyes following her fingers as they traced over the familiar markings on his forehead and back. Strangely enough, it was seeing this tiny cat perched beside her head that hit home the reality of where she really was. If she had been dreaming surely her mind would have conjured up something a little more interesting than this simple moment of normality.  
  
Picking up the tiny cat, Marissa pushed herself up with her other hand to recline against the wall with the pillow nested firmly under her back and Tama settled on her lap. She could hear sounds in the rest of the house now, movement in the next room and the clatter of several objects being moved about. Briefly, she pondered calling out and letting her caretaker know she was awake. There was, of course, the problem of being unable to even communicate that she was hungry without a few expressive hand gestures. Disdaining the thought she, reluctantly, kept her mouth shut and busied herself with petting the cat contentedly sprawled across her stomach. His warmth and soft purrs were a welcome grounding to the truth of her situation and she found herself inanely wondering what her friends would say if they could see her now.  
  
'Good job Mari, you've got the man of your dreams in the next room but you're too injured to give him a good pouncing!'  
  
She chuckled quietly, which sent the little cat jiggling and earned her a glare. "Sorry," she apologized, smiling, and with a dismissive mewl she was forgiven.  
  
For several minutes, the pair lay together in companionable silence and Marissa took the peaceful moment to observe her surroundings. Her first impression of the room being small had been correct, more so than she'd first realized, while lying on her back. It was narrow and only as long as the bed from head to foot, with one solitary shuttered window high on the opposite wall that could be looked out of, if one stood on tiptoes immediately in front of it. However, for all it lacked in size, it did offer a pleasant view of the sky, which was presently a clear, crystal blue and completely devoid of any clouds. Taking a slow deep breath to the point where the side of her ribcage began to ache, Marissa inhaled the clean air and felt a smile creep over her lips. The air was definitely better here than she could have imagined. Not a hint of smog or humanity, just crisp, clean, and smelling of things woodsy and earthy.  
  
Inside of the room there was her bed, which was raised off the floor similar to the western style, a small side table and low backed chair beside it both constructed from the same wood and looking a bit old from wear. The walls inside of the room were deeply tan colored and rubbed smooth, exposing many intricate knots and dark lines running through the grain. The ceiling was flat and made of the same wood panels as the walls, but it seemed to have been left in a more natural state, as there were bumps, ridges, and protruding nubs warping the wood's shape. The only door in the room was slightly off center on the wall at the end of the bed, constructed of a lighter looking wood than the rest of the room. The floor was covered only by a rectangular rug, woven with what looked like reeds and faded threads of several colors. It was a simple room, plain, without any personality or appearance of being lived in. So that led to the question of, was this Chichiri's room or someone else's?  
  
Picking up the earthen cup on the table Marissa carefully poured herself some of the clear water in the single-handed pitcher. She brought the cup to her lips and took a few slow sips before feeling a familiar tingle in her lower belly. Lowering the cup she looked about the room slowly, her eyes finally falling upon a covered, short earthen pot in the corner with four legs to stand it upright.  
  
_You've gotta be kidding me._ With both eyebrows raised and a growing feeling of anxiety forming in her stomach, she slowly placed the half-full cup back on the table and folded her hands around Tama-chan on her lap. _This may be feudal China, but I could be wrong. I hope I'm wrong._  
  
Her inner musings were interrupted by the latch rattling on the inner door. It rose quietly, followed by the door swinging in on hinges that squeaked loudly into the silence of the room, which had hithero only been broken by the steady purr and breathing of the cat on her lap. Once again, there in the doorway, stood a curious vision of life-like proportions that made Marissa's breath hitch in her throat at the pure unexpectedness of it. He was carrying a tray between his hands that held two steaming items, a cup and shallow bowl, along with a rag draped over his right forearm.  
  
He had paused in the doorway at the sight of her awake and they watched each other silently, gauging who would make the next move. Marissa felt the anxiety in her stomach flare into renewed life and suppressed the urge to squirm. Despite her conscious acceptance of the situation her inner emotional turmoil was something profound and she was still wary of this man who looked impossibly realistic when compared to all she'd seen and come to believe. She didn't realize it until a tiny gasp escaped her lips, but she was breathing heavily and had gripped the blanket with whitening knuckles. Flushing in embarrassment, she dropped her eyes and lifted her hands to place them gently on Tama, using his soft fur and quick heartbeat to calm her instinct to get up and flee.  
  
Feeling more in control after a long minute had passed she lifted her eyes to meet the line-drawn ones of Chichiri and watched his face relax in understanding. He nodded politely and she nodded back, the pain in her abdomen subsiding to a hot pulse that could still be felt in her chest and cheeks. He entered the room and moved to stand beside the small table where he set down the simple meal. An aromatic medley of rice and chicken broth assaulted her nostrils and her stomach immediately switched from being nervous to exceptionally hungry.  
  
"Oh thank you," she breathed, reaching over to pick up the bowl.  
  
The seishi, however, seemed to find that unnecessary and picked up the tray before she could reach it. With a gentle nudge he shooed Tama-chan off her lap then laid the clean rag where the cat had just been.  
  
"Thank you," she said again as he set the tray atop the rag, then felt herself flush embarrassedly. "Crap. Arigatou." A smile grew across Chichiri's masked face which quickly became mirrored on Marissa's. Feeling a little more confident, she plowed ahead.  
  
"And, uhm, a… atashi wa… mo… sumanu, honto ni…" Rapidly losing her train of thought in her limited knowledge of Japanese, she abandoned her earlier misgivings about stupid hand gestures. She pointed between herself and Chichiri then made a departing gesture from her mouth while staring up at him apologetically. "Gomen nasai… about earlier, the whole, screaming thing…"  
  
Whether he understood her full apology or not she couldn't tell, but he seemed to grasp her intention and nodded again, blue bangs bobbing with the action. Moving away from the bed he pulled up the wooden chair and sat down within easy reach of her and the pitcher of water. There was always something a bit disconcerting about someone watching you while you ate, but her hunger was beating out self-consciousness by a long shot.  
  
"This is good!" she exclaimed after taking a slow sip of the broth. "Uhm, oishi?" Her uncertain question led her eyes to rise and watch her silent caretaker while drinking another spoonful. This time the smile on his masked face grew wider until Marissa found herself unable to help splitting into a grin in return. His cute smile seemed infectious whether it was hand-drawn or in real life. A curious tingle not unlike nervousness blossomed briefly in her stomach as they shared a smile that seemed to mean more than a thousand awkwardly expressed words.  
  
_Maybe this won't be so bad after all,_ she found herself hoping as she bent her head over the bowl on her lap.  
  
The meal continued in silence, but the atmosphere had quickly gone from awkward to comfortable in the span of a few short minutes. Whatever she may have felt after waking up before, the fear and the denial, it didn't banish the fact that she knew this man to be a good person. She had literally spent months watching his every move, analyzing his personality, struggling to comprehend why this character fascinated and frustrated her so much. Reading the books and seeing him on screen, along with the rest of the participants in this mysterious play, had been an eye opener to the wonders of the imagination to her. That anyone could envision this world and make the effort to bring it to life, albeit in paper, was amazing. And yet here she was, in that world! What did that have to say for the creator of "Fushigi Yuugi"? And what about the Book of the Four Gods? Could the book exist even in her world, perhaps having been the actual inspiration for Watase? The thought was mind boggling in its implications and, with a mental shake, she dismissed her confused speculations. Hunger should be taking precedence, not creating more questions for herself. Like why it was Chichiri who had found her in this world, and why she was here in the first place.  
  
She finished her soup and dutifully drained the rest of her drink at his urging, which was a pleasant tasting green tea with a nutty aftertaste. Swirling the liquid around her mouth thoughtfully before swallowing, she was again amazed at how pure and rich the flavors seemed to be here when compared to her world. Or time period, rather. Things like water, tea leaves, and rice unspoiled by mass production and human industrialization seemed to carry a purity that her modern taste buds found amazing.  
  
"That was really good, oishi," she praised as Chichiri removed the tray from her lap and picked up the rag.  
  
He bestowed her with another of one of his childish smiles, which, once again, managed to send a little flutter of awareness through her midsection that was greatly dulled by the fullness in her stomach. As he left the room with her empty dishes, she let out the deep breath she had been holding in while he'd cleaned up around the bedside. So Chichiri was a guy, a smiling, handsome guy, and he'd been smiling at her, a lot. That still didn't warrant such a juvenile response, especially when from his perspective she was a total stranger who didn't even speak the same language. Let alone what he might think of her if and when he found out she was from another world, beyond that of Miaka's. _Stupid hormones,_ she muttered inwardly to herself.  
  
Thinking that would be the last she'd see of the seishi for awhile, Marissa slid herself slowly down under the bed covers, wincing as her sore limbs and bruises protested the change in position. She was just working on getting the long shirt pulled back down from where it'd bunched around her hips when the inner door opened again. She quickly brought her hands out from under the covers and laid them over her stomach, giving him a tentative smile. The cheerful countenance on his masked faced seemed almost permanently imprinted there now, which popped a question into Marissa's head that had occurred to her several times before arriving here. _Does he ever smile under the mask?_  
  
The thought caused the smile on her face to diminish slightly. Smiling paper masks didn't let you see what was underneath, both the scars and the seriousness. _He could be pissed off and no one would ever know it,_ she realized, a bit disappointedly. Unable to really continue the speculation on that thought, she busied herself with removing leftover bits of dirt and grime from under her finger nails while her caretaker took the seat next to her bed once more.  
  
"Ahem," he coughed, clearing his throat.  
  
Lifting her eyes away from her hands she watched his face curiously. Were they going to start with Basic Greetings 101 now? 'Me Chichiri, you Marissa,' a Tarzan-like voice mimicked in her head.  
  
"Perhaps," he began slowly, haltingly. Marissa froze and her eyes locked on his face in disbelief.  
  
"We should try again no da," he finished. His English was far from perfect, carrying the heavy accent of a native Japanese speaker. But he had still spoken English, clear and correctly.  
  
"My name is Chichiri. And you are Marissa no da?"  
  
Still caught in surprise, she could only nod her head slightly. As she struggled to find her voice, one choked word managed to escape. "H… how?"  
  
Chichiri tapped the fingers of his right hand on his knee, as though he were searching internally for the words to answer her question. "Would you believe magic no da?"  
  
"Magic?" she replied, still pinning him with a look of disbelief and surprise. "How did… how?" she repeated again.  
  
He gave his shoulders a little shrug and held up both hands, palms facing each other about a foot apart. "Last night, my hands," he wiggled his fingers for emphasis, "put them here." He demonstrated by placing the tips against his temples. "I could… see, thoughts, learn from them no da. I learned your language."  
  
Unable to take her eyes off him just yet, Marissa pushed herself back into a reclining position on the bed. "How much?" she asked, her tone dropping from surprise to wonderment.  
  
"Much, but not all no da. A mind is very…" he paused, searching for the word. "Busy," he finished with a broadening smile.  
  
That infectious smile was going to do her in, she realized, as her own lips unintentionally pulled up in response. "Wow," was all she could think to say.  
  
He nodded, sharing her sentiments. "It is very new no da," he admitted. He was still saying the words slower than a normal speaker, as if, despite his mind knowing the correct wording, his tongue was still catching up to shape the strange sounds.  
  
As he was opening his mouth to speak again, Marissa suddenly interrupted. "Hey, wait a second. Do you realize you're still saying 'no da'?" Her brown eyes were dancing with laughter at the realization.  
  
"I am, no… da?" he replied, stumbling over the last words as he too realized his speech pattern had somehow crossed languages.  
  
Unable to hold it back any longer, Marissa laughed out loud. Chichiri soon joined her in his higher, more childish voice, but the sound was far from unpleasant. All remaining vestiges of tension were swept away in their moment of shared mirth.  
  
Still chuckling, Marissa groaned and pressed a hand to her right side. "I think I bruised something," she confessed, attempting to rub away the soreness that had flared to life there.  
  
As her discomfort made itself apparent, Chichiri's laughter quickly dissipated. "Does it hurt badly no da?"  
  
"No, I'll be okay, I think," she replied, gently sinking back onto the bed.  
  
"Marissa?"  
  
"Yes?" She tore her eyes from the ceiling and her concentration on massaging her rib cage to see Chichiri looking at her uneasily.  
  
"I need to check, your leg no da," he explained, pushing his chair closer to the bed.  
  
"Oh." Reaching down her right side, she moved to intercept Chichiri's hands which had been moving to pull away the blanket near her thigh. Trying not to feel too self conscious she gathered away the wool and revealed her right leg from the upper thigh down, finally getting her first view of the white bands which were wrapped tightly around the middle of her limb. Though she had expected to see it, the sight of dark splotches soaking through the fabric sent a painful twinge from her neck down to her toes.  
  
Chichiri seemed concerned at the sight of it as well and began removing the wrappings around her leg quickly and carefully. His sure movements made her wonder just how many times he'd had to unwrap and redress her wound. _How long have I been out of it?_ She contemplated the question briefly before another thought hit her. _ Oh god, has he seen me naked?_  
  
Marissa felt her ears growing warm the longer she stared at the side of the seishi's head and the question rebounded through her mind in mortification. Naturally, Chichiri also chose to turn his head at that moment with the loosened bandages held in his right hand. "Are you alright?" he asked, noticing her red face. "Does it hurt no da?"  
  
"No, I mean, yes. It does hurt a bit, but it's not so bad if I don't move it. Why do I smell lemons?" She said, changing the subject quickly, and sniffed the air to confirm her initial suspicion.  
  
"It's the…" He gestured towards a white powdery substance which was covering the top of her thigh in a long, thin line.  
  
"Poultice?" she offered.  
  
He nodded, blue bangs bouncing. "Lemon is very bitter, it keeps away infection no da."  
  
Marissa watched, fascinated, as he procured a bowl and filled it with water from the pitcher then began wiping away the powder with the soaked edge of another rag. He was cleaning away the outer edges first, keeping away from the center where the spots of red had bled through and dried on the poultice. She tried to gauge how big the wound was, as the line of powder ran from where the edge of the blanket sat down towards her inner thigh and ended a few inches above the left side of her knee. Which then raised the question of, what exactly had done this to her?  
  
If she tried hard enough she could remember walking through the woods, being frustrated and scared and trying to get over the shock of having nearly drowned in the pond not long before. She'd been walking for awhile, or at least it had felt like it, and then… nothing. She was drawing a complete blank. Between being in the woods and waking up here last night there was a distinctive void that both calmed and bothered her at the same time. That she couldn't remember any details was annoying, but if the memories were so bad that her mind had blanked them out, she was grateful for the natural intervention. _Unless he did it,_ she wondered. _I'll have to ask him if-_  
  
"Ow!" she exclaimed, her right hand flying over involuntarily to grip the side of her leg.  
  
"Sorry no da!" Chichiri quickly pulled back from her thigh, his rag caked with the white powder and dried blood. He bent over to wash the rag clean in the bowl as Marissa squinted down the length of her body towards her leg.  
  
"Are those stitches?" she asked, biting her lower lip against the pain his cleaning had induced.  
  
He nodded and placed the damp rag atop her thigh near the edge of the dark threads. "This will hurt a little more no da," he warned as his fingers began to probe the red swollen skin.  
  
"Just a little," she hissed sharply, suppressing the urge to jerk her leg away from his examination. She could feel the cool cloth being passed across the long gash, cleaning away the dried powder from between the stitches. Each tiny tug of the thread on her skin felt like a knife trying to dig out something from inside her leg, a deep internal pain she'd never felt before in her life until this moment. It didn't just localize itself in her thigh either, it was as though all the nerves in her leg down to the very tips of her toes could feel the effects of this internal injury, and they were telling her quite loudly to make the pain stop.  
  
A single tear escaped from her left eye at another jolt of pain. "Are you done yet?" she bit out between gritted teeth.  
  
"Yes, no da," he replied, dropping the red-spotted rag into the bowl, the water now a pink milky color.  
  
"Why does it hurt so badly?" She wiped away the tear streaks on the left side of her face and stared down at her leg again, cringing inwardly at the sight of the whole top of her leg now a bright angry red. The skin being held in place by the stitches was puckered and seeping blood in several places, overall not a pretty sight to behold.  
  
Chichiri began gathering up the bowl and rose to his feet. "The wound is deep no da. I had to make stitches inside your leg to put the… muscles together. It will hurt for a long time, I am sorry no da."  
  
"Bummer," she muttered as her head dropped back against the pillow. She missed the curious look Chichiri threw her way before he left the room, returning a moment later with fresh bandages and a smaller bowl filled with a white pasty substance. He knelt by her bedside and applied the poultice with a flat piece of bamboo, the smell of lemon again permeating the air.  
  
"What's in that anyway?" Marissa's muffled voice asked from under the arm she'd tossed over her face, resigning herself to the labors of her caretaker.  
  
When the pasty substance covered the length of the wound he set down the bowl and gently lifted her leg at the knee to begin rewrapping it with the clean bands of fabric. While he worked a contemplative look settled over his masked face. "I do not know your English words for them no da. There is lemon juice, and two plants. One is a small yellow flower; it will make the pain less and prevent infection. The other is a leaf with many… soft hairs on it, dried and made into a powder. It will make the muscle whole again and heal the skin faster no da."  
  
"Sounds wonderful," she muttered, wincing with each bump that managed to jar her leg from perfect stillness. "I don't suppose you have any morphine here," she continued as an after thought, half joking.  
  
"No, I do not have any, Marissa-san no da," he replied while making the last pass of fabric around her leg.  
  
A short laugh followed by a groan left her mouth. "It was a joke. And please don't call me 'Marissa-san', everyone calls me Mari-chan mostly."  
  
Chichiri's deft fingers gathered the remaining ends of white fabric and tied a small knot near the top of the wrappings, capturing the healing poultice beneath the bands and giving the stitches little chance to move out of place while the skin and muscle mended. "Done, Mari-chan no da," he announced.  
  
Coming to his feet he gently pulled the blanket back into place over her leg, feeling sorry for the poor girl who still had her arm over her face and appeared to be making an attempt to control her breathing around the pain he had caused. He still couldn't say for sure at this time how good or bad the leg would heal. The swelling was worrisome, but the poultices he'd been applying seemed to have stayed any infection at the skin level.  
  
"Is there anything else causing you pain, Mari-chan no da?"  
  
She lifted her arm and waved him off. "No, I'm okay. It just feels much better if I don't move around. But," at this she paused and he watched her eyes flicker over to the opposite side of the room. "I do kinda, uhm, have to go to the bathroom." Her cheeks quickly grew a healthy shade of pink and Chichiri had to fight to keep down the chuckle that wanted to escape. So far she'd been like an open book with her emotions and he was finding it refreshing to be in the presence of a stranger who seemed to trust him so readily. After years of secrets, hidden agendas, and unchangeable destinies, he found himself welcoming the appearance of a mystery that didn't seem like it had some horrific ulterior motive. Still, he knew he'd be a fool and an unfit warrior of Suzaku if he wasn't cautious about finding out who this girl was and where she'd come from.  
  
_All in time,_ he told himself as he helped Marissa out of bed and led her on one hopping foot towards the large earthen jug.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
After the awkward experience of having a man, Chichiri no less, help her get to and from going to the bathroom, Marissa had been left alone with a cup of tea to nap away the afternoon at her leisure. But despite the calming effects of the tea she was finding it hard to drift off into sleep. Instead her mind kept wandering back over the events before and after her arrival, which were leading to many more questions than she was capable of answering. How, why, and would she ever get back seemed the most prevalent. She didn't even know when it was in the course of the story. For all she knew this could be years after the end of the manga series, or sometime during it. Only Tama-chan's presence told her that it was after the seishi had been gathered and the battle between Suzaku and Seriyuu fought. Otherwise she was completely clueless as to when it was or how and why she was here. In Chichiri's care no less.  
  
And that was another whole matter unto itself. She had harbored a fangirl's crush on the character for nearly a year, entranced by anything and everything about him, happy to spend literally hours revisiting the story on screen or in text form. Chichiri had always been more of a fascination than a romantic interest, though there was no denying that the man was incredibly good looking, especially now that she'd seen him in the flesh. His calm presence, his intelligence, his power, his mysterious past, his need for repentance; it was almost intoxicating to watch this man battle his inner demons and yet remain one of the strongest Suzaku seishi, of any seishi next to Nakago, to ever exist. If she was truthful with herself she knew that she could spend a lifetime continually fascinated by him and never tire of the need to understand him and what made him the incredible person he was. And that had been before she'd been brought here, before she'd come face to face with the real thing.  
  
Wasn't it odd then that she had spent so long wishing to comprehend this person, and now here she was? In light of her near obsession with his character it made the whole situation seem even more preposterous. Maybe she really was dreaming after all, a fantasy to finally let her fulfill that need to understand. The realization rang with a truth she hadn't wanted to consider before. People didn't really fall into a world that existed in a book. She was a fool for even thinking the possibility existed. This all had to be a dream, a very real feeling dream. A dream she just hadn't woken up from yet.  
  
Suddenly, being alone didn't feel quite so peaceful anymore. She was isolated, trapped inside this room, living a dream she couldn't get out of. She felt her heart beat quicken in mounting fear. Her eyes darted about the room, searching for a flaw or a crack in this fantasy's prison. Would the walls melt away and end this dream if she willed it hard enough? Was she even in control of this delusion anymore? Could it be an elaborate fabrication she was trapped inside, forever? Where was she really? Why wasn't she waking up?  
  
"Mom, dad?" she squeaked out softly. "Mom?" she called a little louder, her anxiety intensifying with the continued silence.  
  
"Mom!" The sound of her own voice sounded harsh and unreal. She had to be dreaming, there was no other logical explanation.  
  
The latch on the door lifted and Marissa froze on the bed, struggling to stifle her short drawn breaths. Swinging the door open halfway, Chichiri stepped into the room with a concerned expression on his face. "Mari-chan?" he inquired.  
  
She watched him owlishly for a few moments before speaking softly. "Are you real?"  
  
Gently pushing the door closed behind him he stepped over to the bed like how a man might approach a frightened animal. "Of course I am. Why do you ask no da?"  
  
Breaking eye contact, she shook her head and fisted her hands at her sides. "This has to be a dream," she stated firmly but quietly.  
  
"Why?" he asked again, drawing up the wooden chair to sit down across from her shoulder.  
  
"I'm not supposed to be here," she replied almost brokenly. Her hands lifted to press her palms against her pale face, a shaky indrawn breath slipping past her lips.  
  
"Are you in trouble no da?" It was typical Chichiri to be more concerned about her than the bigger ramifications of her being in this world in the first place.  
  
Marissa's hands slid down her face and fisted just beneath her neck. "I don't know. Maybe," she said softly.  
  
"You can tell me no da," Chichiri encouraged, leaning over to place a gentle hand on her shoulder.  
  
She turned tear-filled eyes on him at the contact and in their depths he saw a need for trust and assurance burning fiercely. "You wouldn't believe me," she declared stubbornly.  
  
"Try?" he coaxed gently. Something profound had to be bothering her. He'd only been gone from the room for an hour and she was once again reacting to him and her surroundings the way she had the day before. As though, to her, being here and seeing him was something out of a nightmare, or a situation she'd previously thought impossible. She seemed adamant in refusing to accept that he and this place actually existed. Combined with his certainty that she was from another world, he was determined to get to the bottom of her origins and her fear. Perhaps all he needed to do was make the first gesture.  
  
"Mari-chan," he began when she was silent for a long minute. "I know you're not from this world no da. Not long ago, some of us found out that our world is actually a story written inside of a book. You are not the first to come here from another world no da. There is nothing to be afraid of, I can help you. But you need to trust me no da."  
  
He watched her eyes widen at his words and if he wasn't mistaken he could see a spark of relief float through them. He'd been right in showing the first gesture of trust. Watching her silently, he could see her mulling his suggestion over in her mind, contemplating the best way to approach his offer to hear what was troubling her. Finally she released a long breath and turned dark brown eyes on him. "When did Miaka go home?" she asked barely above a whisper.  
  
Chichiri did his best to hide his surprise. Very few people outside of the seishi and the Emperor's Court knew the true name of the Suzaku no Miko. "About a year ago no da," he replied slowly, critically studying her reaction.  
  
She bit down on her lower lip and worried it between her teeth for a moment. "And the war with Kotou, when was Nakago defeated?"  
  
"Mari-chan, have you..." he began, pulling back from the bed.  
  
"No please," she begged, reaching out to grasp the sleeve of his retreating arm. "I have to know. Don't ask me anything yet, please."  
  
The face on Chichiri's mask frowned with worry before he let out a short sigh. "We defeated Nakago a year ago as well no da. The remaining factions of the Kotou army were broken apart six months ago. Kotou's new emperor is too young to take the throne, so a councilor loyal to Konan is ruling until the child comes of age no da. Is that what you wanted to know no da?"  
  
"I think so, yes," she replied, the fingers of her left hand drifting unconsciously towards her mouth until she was ripping the nail on her index finger.  
  
He watched her tackle that nail and then another completely before he gently cleared his throat, determined to see that this conversation didn't end on such a mysterious note. "Mari-chan," he prompted.  
  
She lowered her hand and shifted restlessly under the bed covers. "I still don't think you'd believe me. But," she hastily continued at his grave expression, "I'll tell you what I can.  
  
"You were right, I'm not from around here. That's why we didn't speak the same language." At this point she paused and seemed to be weighing her next words carefully. "Except, I'm not from Miaka's world."   
  
Chichiri felt himself go ridged. Could what she was saying be true? Was Miaka's world just another one of many worlds? Had his Miko even been aware of this? It had been shocking enough for all of the seishi to hear of their ink and paper existence. He personally had done a lot of soul searching on the subject, though had failed to come any closer to understanding the meaning of his existence if he was simply just words in a story. What did this mean for Miaka and Yui, and their own world?  
  
Unaware of Chichiri's inner thoughts, she licked her lips nervously and continued. "In my world, you are a book as well. And so is Miaka's world. Your world is a book within a book, or at least I think it is. No one's really sure if the Book of the Four Gods actually exists in my world the way it's portrayed in Miaka's world. But I guess that doesn't matter really." Her eyes slid over to watch the eyebrows on his mask rise impossibly high in disbelief.  
  
"I'm sorry, but it's true. I've read your story, many people have. We all know about how Miaka was brought into your world and had to gather the seishi and fight against her best friend. The story tells about all of that, the battle that took place in her world, how Tamahome died and was reincarnated in her world to be together with her. But we all thought it was just a story, we, I had no idea it was real. That anyone could actually come here. I still don't understand how I got here, or why I'm here. I feel like this is just a really weird dream," she ended with a slight hitch to her voice.  
  
To her surprise she felt his hand move to her shoulder again and give it a reassuring squeeze. "I am sorry you had to go through what you did to get here no da."  
  
It was his kind voice that crumbled the last of her barriers, all her fear and frustration and confusion pouring out with the warm tears that slid down her face. She sniffed loudly while running the sleeve of her arm across her face and left it over her mouth and nose when it seemed the tears weren't going to stop anytime soon. She allowed herself a good cry, feeling both mortified and relieved with each passing second as her emotional turmoil found its release. Her muffled sobs were the only sound in the room for several minutes, Chichiri a silent, strong presence beside her that she knew was infinitely better to have there than being left to cry alone.  
  
When her tears finally subsided, she used the edge of her shirt sleeve to wipe her face and surreptitiously clean away the mess under her nose. His hand gave her shoulder one final squeeze before withdrawing and she turned her face to look up at her caretaker. "I'm glad you were the one who found me," she admitted, almost shyly, breaking into a small smile.  
  
He gave her one of his friendly cheerful expressions in return. "Do you want to talk more Mari-chan, or do you wish to sleep no da?"  
  
"I think I'm ready to sleep now," she confessed.  
  
Getting out of the chair, Chichiri picked up her empty tea cup and the pitcher of water. He gave her a small, reassuring nod, before heading to the door, when her voice made him stop mid step.  
  
"Will you be here when I wake up?" she asked almost timidly, her face going slightly pink.  
  
"I will be here, Mari-chan," he promised with a slow smile that kicked started Marissa's insides back into awareness of the man standing in the room with her. As he shut the door quietly she closed her eyes and huffed out a breath of air. _Stupid hormones._


	5. Chapter 4: The Chance of the Morning

Chapter 4 - The Chance of the Morning   
  
_The coming of the morning is like a bee among the flowers,__  
He buzzes and roves wherever he needs to go...  
Springtime passes and the flowers no longer blossom,  
Pained in your heart, there's nowhere to go or stay._

The room was dark when Marissa awoke again, an inky black that felt as though a blanket had been pulled tightly over her eyes. She blinked slowly several times until the muted glow of silver starlight filled the tiny room, revealing the outline of the inner door and the window's open shutter. With her vision adjusted she could hear sounds she hadn't noticed before, the slow deep breathing of a large body to her right, and the gentle vibrations from the cat snuggled between her knees. She twisted her head and gazed into the pool of darkness beside her bed, picking out a dark shape that lay stretched out on the floor. It seemed she had her answer as to where Chichiri slept during the night. His breathing was steady and deep, the faint beginnings of a light snore dragging behind each indrawn breath.    
  
The longer she stared at the dark shape the more detail she was able to discern; the blanket was pulled up to his chest, his head was turned away, left hand tucked behind his head, and the other arm was lost somewhere in the darkness. Belatedly she realized she was actually looking at a bare arm and, with a secret inward smile, tucked away the knowledge that Chichiri slept shirtless. If he chose to sleep without other garments on she refused to speculate on the possibility. There was no denying that such thoughts would be pleasant and wholly distracting in the future, but something inside her cautioned against ogling this man too much. He was no longer just a character and a picture to hang up in her room. He was a real man who might not appreciate sidelong glances and daydreams starring his naked torso. Still, that didn't mean that while she was awake and he was asleep she couldn't take a few moments to gaze upon her good fortune, did it?    
  
Careful not to disturb her slumbering bed-mate, Marissa slowly turned on her side. Now with her upper body facing Chichiri's direction she rested her head against her inner elbow, wishing silently for just a little more light to be available. It was unusually comforting to have him sleeping in the same room with her, albeit several feet away and on the floor. This man was a warrior, powerful, intelligent, mystical, someone who had loved and lost. He had powers beyond her wildest imagination, had conversed with gods, appeared to be perfectly at ease with people from other worlds, and not least of all chose to wear a permanent scar upon his body as a reminder of his mortality. He'd single handily tended to her wounds and might have even saved her life in the process. She owed him everything.    
  
But what exactly did "owing him everything" entail? That returned her thoughts once again to her original question of why she was here in the first place. Was she here to tell him about the future? To pop in, deliver a message, and then leave again? Or was it mere coincidence that their paths had crossed and she was here for an entirely different reason, to take part in a story unknown to the readers of Fushigi Yuugi? Did it even involve Chichiri and the seishi's future confrontations with Tenkou? Should she say something about that, and if so, what? Did she even have a right to mess with the storyline? Maybe this had happened in the story after all, but by the time Miaka and Taka showed up she had already returned to her own world. What if, what if, maybe, maybe - all the speculations were making her dizzy.    
  
She shut her eyes and exhaled deeply, releasing the nagging questions from her thoughts and letting her mind drift out into the darkness. No matter what reasons existed for her being here, she was as helpless as a lamb in her current condition, that much was clear. At least Miaka had the imbibed powers of a Miko at her disposal, which not least of all consisted of a contingent of warriors protecting her every move. She on the other hand was no Miko, which in her mind correlated as "not worth paying attention to". So what options did that leave her? It meant she needed to figure out how this world worked, to learn how to protect herself, and to blend in while she was here. The language was going to be a problem, that fact had shown itself already. But considering she couldn't do anything about it except to begin learning Japanese in earnest, it seemed to be her only real stumbling block. Perhaps Chichiri would let her stick around for awhile and learn the language off him.    
  
Peeking open her eyes, Marissa gazed upon the most powerful living seishi still alive, and felt like pinching herself. He might not agree to anything complicated, or even like the idea, but there was no harm in at least asking if he was willing to teach her the ways of this world. Customs, language, locations, maybe a few harmless tricks to keep her out of harms way. If anything, maybe he'd see it as a way to get her out of his hair sooner. She had a sinking, uncomfortable feeling that despite Chichiri's well-meaning care, mending a total stranger and being forced to stay stationary was not something he would enjoy over the long term. If she played her cards right, perhaps even offered an exchange of future knowledge, she might get a crash course in ancient China out of all this.    
  
Satisfied with her resolution, and feeling tendrils of sleep curl through her mind once more, Marissa rolled over onto her back and stretched her arms above her head. She was done crying and asking questions she couldn't answer. All that mattered now was getting out of this bed and figuring out what was waiting for her in this world. She just hoped that Chichiri would be the one to help her do it.    
  
= = = = = = =   
  
_A child was crying, muffled sobs from behind a low line of bushes near the wall. Jasmine smelled strong and fragrant in the early evening air, like a blanketing perfume that did more than the high wall ever could to give the garden a sense of solitude and privacy from the outside world. Soft glowing lanterns hung across the porch and spilled their colorful light out across the flagstone path which wound its way through the garden. A small koi pond and footbridge arching over it were the garden's prized centerpieces. Every smooth rock around the pond was perfectly shaped to fit beside its partner, and a sea of sand encircling the pond had been raked into perfect parallel swirls that resembled a twisting river making its journey into the miniature lake. One solitary weeping willow stood on the other side of the garden, amplifying the impression of loneliness as its branches caressed the ground with feather light whispers. A copper lantern tarnished green with age stood atop a stone column in the very center of the enclosure, its flickering candle a beacon of flickering light to guide the lost traveler through this garden of self-discovery._    
  
_The crying continued among the sounds of cicadas awakening with the night. Approaching the wall, the branches of a jasmine hedge parted to reveal a young girl clad in simple clothes, a turban of fabric wrapped around her head. In front of her bent knees the still body of a young fox lay. She wept heartbrokenly into her small hands, many of her tears falling upon the brown coat where they glistened in the fading twilight._    
  
_Rubbing her face, she lowered her hands and began digging a hole in the soft dirt. She was speaking softly during her labor, mournful words that slipped out between the hiccups of her sobs. "Sorry... I didn't mean... my fault... I shouldn't have... you didn't know... my fault..."_    
  
_When the hole was several inches deep she reverently picked up the stiff corpse and laid it in the trench, her hands lingering over the soft fur of her departed friend. "They were so mean... I'm sorry..."_    
  
_"Ming," a male voice said. Through the child's eyes a man appeared on the other side of the bushes and looked down at his daughter sternly. "You waste your tears over that creature. If you had listened to me and not fed it against my wishes, it would not have been so foolish to trust humans. Your brother did us a favor by killing the wretched beast."_    
  
_"Yes, father," she whispered obediently as she continued to fill the hole._    
  
_"Leave it!" he barked. Robes rustling with impatience, her father turned and swept towards the house._    
  
_Ming moved the last handful of dirt atop the fox's body and bowed low over the grave with tears streaming down her face. "Qing yuan liang wo."_    
  
= = = = = = =  
  
Marissa awoke with cooling tears on her cheeks and a sense of profound sadness gripping her heart. The contents of the distressing dream eluded her, and the harder she tried to snatch pieces of the hazy images the faster they seemed to dissipate out of her memory. Only the emotional blow of a deep loss clung tightly. It was lonely and disturbing, as though she'd unexpectedly lost something she hadn't even been aware of having in the first place.    
  
An instinctual part of her mind warned against probing the emotion too deeply, unless she wanted to find herself trapped in the moment of the feeling. Heavily emotional dreams were deceptive and dangerous if one let their faux pain spread too far. She knew it could easily affect her feelings for the rest of the day, like a ghost lingering just under her conscious thoughts, manipulating her feelings and leaving her unexplainably melancholy, if she dwelled on it too long.    
  
Regrettably, she was no stranger to these types of dreams. They didn't occur often, but when they did, she knew she was better off to forget the incident as best she could. What puzzled her was that this was the second time since her arrival that a deeply emotional dream had taken hold of her night fantasies. The coincidence was bothersome and emotionally draining. Being subjected to a dream that had the power to leave her feeling like her brain had been rewired overnight was enough to make anyone question their sanity. Reaching up both hands to rub away the sleep and dried tears from her eyes, she used the pain of the pressure to push away the last remnants of the dream, determined to prevent its memory from ruining her day.    
  
Withdrawing her hands she squinted in the dim light and twisted her head to look across the room. Through the open shutters was a sky dotted with clouds, still misty gray in the early morning. The floor in the room was bare save for the lonely mat. It seemed once again Chichiri had managed to rise before her. No doubt he would be cooking breakfast in the next room, or out fishing to catch their meal. With enough prior knowledge of the seishi's habits, combined with her own observations, it hadn't been hard to figure out how the man occupied the majority his time - lots and lots of meditation.    
  
Against her left side Tama-chan was curled into a tight ball and drowsing in a deep sleep. Not wishing to wake him, Marissa sat up slowly and carefully, but the cat simply continued to purr quietly with one paw over his eyes. With both palms flat on the bed she stared down at the blanket across her legs, wiggling both sets of toes experimentally while she debated on how far she was willing to move to leave this soft prison. She knew it would hurt, but until she tried she would never know how much, or how far she could get on her own before her limits were reached. She couldn't very well depend on Chichiri to haul her ass to and from the chamber pot permanently could she?    
  
Mind made up, she tossed aside the blanket. Placing a hand under her right knee, she slowly maneuvered her limb until she sat on the edge of the bed, both feet just barely skimming the floor by the tips of her toes. She was tempted to try and stand on both legs, but the risk of pain stalled her resolve. Either way, on one leg or two, she'd have to stand up on her own eventually. With that grim certainty in mind, she placed her left foot flat on the floor and pushed off from the bed.    
  
And promptly fell back down on it.    
  
"Oof," she huffed out loud. It seemed her sense of balance wasn't exactly what it used to be.    
  
Placing all her weight on her left foot, she pushed off slowly this time from the bed while keeping one hand on the mattress. When she was finally upright a smirk of victory spread over her face. Taking advantage of being vertical and relatively alone, she tugged down the long shirt and gave herself a once over. She was relatively clean, though her mouth was beginning to feel scummy, and her hair could definitely use a good washing. There were some itchy scabs on her palms, and running her tongue across her lips she could feel the remnants of another cut just over her upper lip. Her ribs and left hip still felt vaguely sore, probably having been acerbated by her movements, but for the most part everything seemed superficial. She couldn't hope to get much more critical without the use of a full-length mirror.    
  
Marissa's balance began to waver again so she sat back down on the edge of the bed, pleased that she had taken some initiative in her recovery. She contented herself with inspecting her growing toenails while listening for any sounds coming from the rest of the house. Oddly enough, she hadn't noticed any upon waking, and even now there appeared to be only silence.    
  
_He wouldn't leave me here alone, would he?_ she thought worriedly. After a moment she brushed the thought aside, refusing to grow needlessly concerned.    
  
Over the next fifteen minutes she stretched and twisted all of her limbs and lethargic joints while sitting on the bed. At the end of the quarter hour the sound of another door opening met her ears. There was a clatter of several objects being set down, then the sound of feet approaching her door. Marissa stiffened on the bed, suddenly filled with apprehension. What if it hadn't been her guardian who had just stepped into the house? The footsteps approached, then stopped abruptly when several loud knocks reverberated through the tiny structure. The feet moved away from her direction and the front door squeaked open once more. A gruff, deep voice met her ears, followed immediately after by the familiar tone of Chichiri's voice in reply.    
  
Marissa's shoulders slumped in relief. While inwardly she called herself a few names for an overreactive moron, her ears strained to hear what was going on in the other room. The two men engaged in conversation for several minutes, a few broken words in Japanese filtering through her closed door, but the topic of discussion was completely lost on her. She found her resolve to learn the language springing back to life the longer she struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. It was quickly becoming apparent just how helpless she'd be in this world if she came to be on her own, if Chichiri chose to leave her while continuing on his own quest. She tried to ignore the painful sinking feeling in her stomach at that thought.    
  
The conversation appeared to come to an end and the front door shut with a loud click. When the feet approached her door once more, Marissa hastily grabbed her pillow and placed it over her lap. She couldn't explain why, but the thought of being seen half-dressed by Chichiri in broad daylight had suddenly made her feel like a shy preteen all over again.    
  
"Mari-chan?" came the inquiring voice behind the door.    
  
"Yes, come in."    
  
Chichiri's smiling face emerged as the door swung open. "Good morning no da!"    
  
"Good morning," she replied, not quite able to bring herself to match his jovial demeanor.    
  
It appeared to matter little however, as Chichiri made his way over to the bed. "How do you feel no da? Any fever or chills? Does your leg hurt? Are you hungry no da?" He stopped at her side and stared down critically past her upturned head to the pillow on her lap and then to her bare toes on the floor.    
  
"Uh…" she stammered for a moment, not quite sure whether he was joking or not. "Fine, no, a little, and yes?"    
  
"Good no da," he replied, bending closer to inspect her face. With gentle fingers he grasped her chin and pulled aside the messy burgundy bangs over her forehead. He nodded to himself, observing the mending cut over her eyebrow, and moved to lift both of her wrists off of the pillow on her lap. Turning them palms up, he made a sound in the back of his throat at the sight of the scabs across the pads of her palms and wrists, and lifted up the sleeves on each of her arms to her elbows before dropping both hands. When he moved to remove the pillow from her lap, Marissa smacked a hand down over the middle.    
  
"Ano..." Chichiri's hand hovered frozen in place over the pillow. He lifted his head to look upon the blushing girl in confusion.    
  
"Sorry," she murmured, and slowly withdrew her hand and the obstacle.    
  
He was thorough and quick to check the bands and knot to make sure they were still in place around her thigh, then rose and crossed his arms over his chest. "You shouldn't try walking yet no da. Stay here and I'll bring you breakfast."    
  
Marissa nodded reluctantly as he turned and left the room. He left the door open on his way out this time, which prompted her to lean forward on the bed in an attempt to gain a view of the next room. From her vantage point one window was visible, as well as the corner of a wood table and a bench beneath it. A second door was also in her line of sight, or rather its inner edge and two large metal hinges. The floor in the next room was wood as well, and the window's two small shutters were pulled open to let in the brightening morning light. From the room also came the sounds of Chichiri moving about, as well as the familiar clang of metal upon metal.    
  
Marissa thoughtfully licked her lips. "Chichiri?"    
  
"Yes no da?" His voice floated back from somewhere around the corner.    
  
"Who was that at the door?"    
  
"The farmer who owns the house no da."    
  
Marissa scooted back on the bed and picked at the edge of the bandage on her leg. "Why are we in his house?"    
  
A dull thud, like that of a large knife hitting wood met her ears. The sounds of chopping continued for nearly a minute before they stopped, and within a moment Chichiri once more appeared in her doorway. His kesa had been removed and both sleeves were pushed back, revealing pale toned forearms and finger tips coated with a bloody red sheen.    
  
"This house sits on Chunseng-san's land no da. I suppose a caretaker usually lives in the house, for people who stop by on the roadway. He offered me this place to stay when I needed it no da."    
  
Marissa watched the seishi flick a few drops of blood off the ends of his fingers and held back the urge to blanch. "Was that before or after..." She made a vague gesture with a sweep of her hand.    
  
"Before no da," he answered, and swept back into the other room to finish the breakfast preparations.    
  
Marissa obliged herself to wait patiently while the cooking smells of fish and rice filled the tiny structure. Sometime during that period Tama-chan awoke from his slumber and gave her elbow a morning nudge before sauntering into the next room. She enviously watched his brown-tipped tail disappear around the corner.    
  
She was beginning to wonder how badly she'd get in trouble for standing up and hopping to the doorway, when Chichiri suddenly appeared at the threshold and crossed into the room. He flashed a smile before dragging the small bedside table over to rest in front of her knees. She clasped her hands over her lap while she watched him leave the room and return again with two steaming bowls and a pair of chopsticks. With perfunctory flourish he placed her meal on the table and dropped a short bow in response to the smile that was having a hard time staying repressed on her face.    
  
She picked up the long wooden chopsticks and studied the meal in front of her. There was a bowl filled with white rice small, garnished by a thin filet of fish, another small bowl of chicken broth, and a cup of water to complete the repast.    
  
Chichiri interrupted her critique with a clearing of his throat. "Did you need help with the hashi no da?" He held out his hand to take the two long sticks she held loose in her hand.    
  
Marissa smiled and shook her head. She shifted her grip on the chopsticks, notching them between her fingers and thumb. "We call then 'chop sticks'," she corrected, and demonstrated by picking up a few grains of the white rice.    
  
The seishi looked pleased and straightened up. "Enjoy your meal no da."    
  
Marissa called out as he was turning to leave the room. "Why don't you eat breakfast with me?" She quickly moved to clear away a space on the opposite side of the table.    
  
He watched her silently for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I will then no da." Chichiri disappeared from the room and returned with his own bowl of rice and fish and an empty cup soon after. Drawing up the room's single chair, he placed himself opposite Marissa at the table and poured his cup full with water.   
  
The tiny table offered minimal space for both their meals and the water pitcher, and beneath the table Marissa found herself tucking her ankles tightly against the bed to prevent their feet from knocking together. It was a miracle in itself that their knees did not collide. She made quick work of her soup and the rice around her filet of fish, making only hesitant approaches towards the meat before opting for a few grains of rice or a drink of water instead. Fish and seafood had always been a favorite of hers, but this meager sample looked nothing she had ever eaten before. The flesh was a stomach-turning yellow and the skin still left on the underside was darkened nearly to the point of being burned. Miniscule bones crisscrossed through the flesh and promised much nitpicking on her behalf to remove them.    
  
Chichiri on the other hand seemed to have no such concerns over his meal. The few times she had glanced across the table showed his filet of fish diminishing in size and his quantity of rice shrinking with each pass of the chopsticks. Her stomach roiled at the thought of wondering how he could possibly consume such a, well, barbaric substance.    
  
"Are you not hungry no da?" Chichiri asked, piercing through her thoughts. She glanced down and saw she had created an island of rice beneath her cut of fish and eaten completely around it inside the bowl.    
  
Marissa pushed the bowl away and folded her hands. "I'm full," she lied, and wondered if it was possible to live off rice and chicken broth for many weeks. It seemed she was going to find out.    
  
To her surprise Chichiri swept her bowl across the table and replaced his empty dish with it. Her mouth hung partly open as she watched him finish her rice and fish with only a few large bites.    
  
"How can you eat that?" she blurted out.    
  
Chichiri stacked his empty bowls together and raised a drawn eyebrow at her curiously. "Do you not like fish no da?"    
  
"I like fish fine," she protested, feeling a bit silly. "But that... thing was not like any fish I've ever had. It was the wrong color and looked burned and..." She cut herself off before she could further insult his cooking. "The rice was good," she mumbled.    
  
Chichiri indulged her with a familiar smile. "I'm sorry no da. My way of cooking is... well, I have been alone for a long time, and Tama-chan does not care how he gets his fish, just as long as he gets it no da. Maybe it would be better if I finally learned how to cook a fish properly, since I have a lady to care for now no da." His tone was lightly teasing, and Marissa felt relieved that her comments hadn't bruised his ego.  
  
"I suppose I could teach you," she ventured, her eyes going introspective. "I can't promise it'll be much better though. I'm used to cooking with electric ovens and microwaves."    
  
At his befuddled expression she blushed and picked self consciously at the sleeve of her shirt. "They're just some of things people use in my world to cook with. It makes things faster, and easier, I guess. It can be pretty messy sometimes, especially when something breaks, or you burn something. My mom hates getting food stuck on her stove." _Shit, I'm babbling._    
  
Chichiri observed her growing discomfort and felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. He wondered if he would be reacting any more awkwardly if their roles were revered. More likely than not, for just from her few words her world sounded as alien to him as his must seem to her. He felt it necessary to do what he could to put her mind at ease. "I would appreciate the help no da," he said kindly.   
  
A small smile flittered across her face. "It'll give me something to do," she admitted wryly before taking a sip of her water.   
  
"It's not my intention to keep you locked up in here no da."   
  
Marissa set down her cup with a soft tap on the table. "I know. It's only been two days, but I keep looking out the window…" She straightened up on the bed and in one of the few times since her arrival into consciousness, looked at him directly. "I keep seeing the sky outside the window and I want to know what's out there. This is a whole new world to me and instead of out there exploring it I'm stuck here in this room and in this bed. I know I should be scared, because hell something already hurt me out there, even though I can't remember any of it, I feel like I'm wasting my time being too injured to even walk out the front door. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful, because I think you saved my life and I'm in debt to you for that, but I know I'm going to go stir crazy if I can't at least smell something other than fish and lemons."   
  
To her relief, the seishi nodded in understanding, and a brief smile touched upon his mask. "You'll be able to go outside soon, I promise no da."   
  
A pensive look stole over her features. "What's out there anyway?"   
  
"What do you mean no da?" he asked, and leaned forward on the table to begin collecting their dishes.   
  
"Like… well what's out there? Are there any towns around? You said a farmer owned this house, does he live nearby? Are we near any big cities? How far away is the capital?"   
  
Chichiri lifted an eyebrow at her last question. "Why would you want to know where the capital is no da?"   
  
Marissa bit her bottom lip, darkening the plump flesh. "No reason really. I read about it when I… when I read about your world. It sounds like an interesting place to see." _Open mouth, insert foot Mari._   
  
"Well," he began, the empty dishes now gathered into a small pile before him. "We're in the Guangxi Province. About a two hour walk from here is a small trading town to the south named Shoyu no da. A lot of the surrounding area is farmland, forests, and a few rivers and lakes no da. Guangxi is in the northern part of Konan and borders with Kotou on its eastern side, and I think about a week's ride from Eiyou no da."   
  
"So we're in the middle of no where," Marissa concluded woefully.   
  
"Is there somewhere you need to be no da?" he inquired politely, but the evident curiosity was there.   
  
She shook her head and then gave him a sad smirk. "Unless you mean back in my own world, cause I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to be here." Looking quite miserable, she set her elbow on the table and cupped her cheek in her upturned hand.   
  
Chichiri's expression turned downcast as he stared at the table between them, trying to think of something to say that didn't sound overly hopeful, but would put some of her doubts to rest. "Perhaps you don't know the reason why you're here no da." The look she gave him clearly said she didn't believe that. Placing both elbows on the table, he continued his train of thought. "I heard after I joined the Suzaku no Miko that she had briefly doubted her position as the Miko upon first hearing about it no da. She was quickly convinced by the Emperor to see the truth of it, but what matters is that she did not know immediately what her role was to be in this world. Perhaps it is the same for you, and in time you will discover why you have been brought here no da."   
  
Marissa still looked unconvinced, but she also appeared to be thoughtfully turning the idea over in her head, her dark brown eyes like windows into her conflicting emotions. "Maybe," she conceded with a soft sigh. "I was wondering, could you help me out with something?"   
  
"What's that no da?"   
  
She looked uncomfortable as whatever request she was going to make of him fought its way to the surface. "I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but remember when I told you about how I've read the story of everything that's happened so far? How all of the seishi came together, about the final battle in their world, all the fighting and the gods and the Miko's wishes?" She made an encompassing gesture with her hand and Chichiri nodded in understanding.   
  
"Well, that's not all I know. In my world, the story doesn't end there. It picks up again two years after Miaka and Yui return to their world, and a bunch of shit happens that I really can't tell you about, but trust me it does. And the truth is, I'm not in that story, no one from my world is. So obviously there's been some mistake, or I won't be here in a year, and I really don't want to sit around waiting to see if tomorrow or in a year I'm going to somehow get back to my world or end up dead. So I need your help."   
  
Chichiri found he had to swallow several times before trusting himself to speak. "You know the future no da?"   
  
Marissa lowered her hand to the table top and clenched it into a fist, her eyes fixed on the pale fingers. "Yes. And up until a few days ago I was really happy knowing what I know. You were all just a damn cartoon and I didn't have to worry about being stuck in another world or how many steps I could take before falling down or about learning a whole other language. I wish whatever did it had picked someone else, I don't want to be here, no matter how incredible or amazing it might seem." In her frustration she pounded her fist against the table.   
  
When Chichiri didn't speak into the silence that lingered after her emotional outburst, she drew in a shaky breath and spread her palm flat on the table. "We could make it like a trade. I'll teach you how to cook, you teach me how to live in ancient China." Lifting her eyes to his face, she saw him staring upon her with an intense look of pity that made her cringe inside.   
  
"I will do that Mari-chan, if you answer one question no da."   
  
"Sure," she agreed without hesitation.   
  
"Why no da?" At her look of confusion he attempted to explain. "Why do you want to know how to live here no da? You won't be here forever no da."   
  
"How do you know that?" she countered. "Just because I'm not in the story in a year doesn't mean that I'm not here. I could be living somewhere else by then, or I could be dead, or I could be back in my world. I don't know anything for sure, and neither do you. Don't you think it'd be better if I learned how to live here, learned the language, the customs, how to dress, how to earn money, just in case?"   
  
"That is true no da," Chichiri agreed slowly, but there was a lingering tone of doubt in his voice.   
  
"Will you help me, please? I promise I won't stay in your hair too long, maybe I could get a job in the town, or we could talk to the farmer who owns the house. It would just be a few weeks, you could teach me the language while my leg gets better. I'm a pretty fast learner, what do you say?"   
  
Chichiri watched Marissa express her ideas for her future survival in China and found himself admiring her foresight when it came to these issues. Everything she'd said had validity. She was a stranger in the world and to survive she would have to learn the language and the customs and how to get a job. But something was niggling at the back of his mind. Her words made sense, but there was something about the logic that bothered him in the deepest regions of his stomach. She was clearly anxious and desperate to receive guidance, for he too knew the world held many dangers for a young woman who did not know enough to protect herself. There was more evil in the world than just monsters in the forest.   
  
"Mari-chan." He paused, noticing how her expression faltered at his serious tone. "I would be happy to teach you, for as long as it takes no da. But I think you are forgetting that people are not sent to our world by the gods for no reason no da. You may not believe so, but I feel that there must be a reason you are here. One person may know why, and I think we should go see her no da."   
  
Marissa went wide-eyed and leaned away from the table. "You're not talking about Taiitsu-kun, are you?"   
  
Chichiri arched an eyebrow and nodded, his blue bangs bobbing. "She is very wise in matters not of our world no da. She might be able to help you return home, or tell you why you are here no da."   
  
"I suppose," she agreed, though her tone was doubtful. "Do I really have to go see her?"   
  
The seishi rose from his chair and gathered up the empty dishes. "I think that would be wisest no da. If you feel well enough, we can visit her today no da."  
  
Marissa paled and scooted back further on the bed. "Can we… could we go tomorrow? I - I don't feel well enough today."   
  
Chichiri was not oblivious to her sudden nervousness at seeing the deity, but he chose to keep his concerns over her behavior to himself. If she had something to hide, Taiitsu-kun would be the one able to detect it, and the most likely one to pull the secret out of her. It made him uneasy to think that Marissa had something to hide, that her reasons for being in their world were less than noble. Truth be told he believed in her emotions of uncertainty and fright, she was not a woman who could lie easily with eyes as expressive as she had. Her request to become a part of their world seemed reasonable enough and one he would have gladly obliged to aid with, had he not also felt instinctually that to do so would be setting foot down the wrong path. She had to have a purpose for being here, regardless of her arguments to the contrary.   
  
"Yes, Mari-chan. We will go see her tomorrow no da."   
  
He watched her nod in thanks before leaving the room with the dirty bowls held between his arms. There was the sound of the table being dragged back across the floor to its original position next to the bed, then a low sigh that seemed to echo in the ensuing silence coming out of the room. Setting the bowls and cups on the wide table in the main room, Chichiri looked towards the open window and the roadway and trees which lay beyond. Perhaps it would be helpful, just for a little while, to let her go outside and see the sun. He did not attempt to think too long on the doubt that had crept inside him, or the way it pained him to consider that Marissa was something more dangerous than what she seemed.  
  
A/N: This chapter was brought to you from the depths of Hell, where I labored for eternity under threats of pikement by my Beta. Chapter 19, coming soon to a store near you! 


	6. Chapter 5: Wherever You Go

Chapter 5 – Wherever You Go  
  
_The restless surging waves bring troubles in your way -  
The streams are clogged with soil and clay from the mountain,  
And the one who tries to function beyond the Great Wall  
Has not yet come home to himself at all._

Chichiri felt a little better watching the way Marissa's face lit up with the promise that he would let her go outside for a short time that day. Gone was the shy, trembling girl who had spoken softly and jumped at every noise. Pieces of the protective shell she'd erected around herself had broken in that moment of joyous hope and she was transformed. He was fairly certain he was seeing the woman beneath the girl he had been taking for granted the last few days. Now she was bright eyed, assertive, and concerned for everything but her own personal recovery. Without hesitation she had begun issuing orders as if she needed to begin preparing for the most important outing of her life.  
  
I really need to wash up. Can I take a hot bath? she asked immediately after hearing the news. I'll also need soap, hair wash, and something to clean my teeth with. And where are my clothes and my shoes?  
  
I'll bring you your clothes and start a bath no da, he replied hastily and made a retreat.  
  
Dragging the sturdy wooden tub out of the corner proved to be a bigger chore than he'd expected. All of his bathing had been done down in the river which flowed a short distance behind the house, whose waters were refreshingly cold in the summer heat. But he was sure that the idea of a cold bath would not satisfy this new side of Mari-chan. When the tub was positioned a few steps away from the hearth he stood up and wiped a line of sweat off his brow. From the bottom of the tub he withdrew six flat stones, each a little larger than the size of his hand, and placed them one by one into the fireplace. Using a pair of iron tongs he stoked the blaze into renewed life and wedged the stones between the glowing embers of the snapping logs. When the last one was firmly in place he retrieved a wooden bucket near the door and stepped outside, making for the barrel of rainwater beside the house.  
  
The container revealed itself to be nearly a third empty after he opened the hinged lid. He hoped it would be enough water for the moment, for the thought of making several trips to the river and back just to fill a bathing tub did not strike him as a productive use of his time. Pushing up the sleeves on his arms to his elbows, he dipped the bucket into the water and tried not to slosh too badly on his way back to the house. Before filling the tub he used the first bucket to fill the empty iron kettle that hung suspended over the flames. He returned outside and made six more trips between the tub and the barrel before stopping, the rainwater almost completely depleted and the tub half full. The stones were extremely hot by that point, their surfaces glowing a dull orange where veins of metal ran through the rock. He fetched the same pair of tongs to drop them into the bottom of the tub, watching in satisfaction as the water bubbled around their descending bodies.  
  
Marissa was wiggling on the bed impatiently when he returned to the small bedroom, her original clothes folded in his arms and the shoes resting on top. He passed over the items into her outstretched hands and watched her pick up each piece to inspect it. When two of the smaller items tumbled from the pile a light blush stained her cheeks and she quickly threw them under the covers of the bed and out of sight. Chichiri concealed a smile and wondered if he should mention that he'd had to completely undress her the first night in the house, just to see how embarrassed she might get. Girls from other worlds could be so peculiar when it came to their modesty.  
  
Where's my shirt? she asked, breaking the silence. The other articles were strewn about her on the bed and her shoes had been set down on the floor beside her bare feet.  
  
Chichiri wiped away his amusing thoughts and mustered up a serious look before answering. I burned it many nights ago no da. It was badly torn apart and there was too much blood to wash out. I'm sorry no da.  
  
The color slowly drained from Marissa's cheeks at his words. Chichiri frowned in sympathy at her expression, wondering if he should have been that forthright so soon. It was the reaction he'd been afraid of seeing when it came time to mention her attack in the forest. Out of concern for the trauma she must have endured, he'd made a point to skirt the issue whenever possible. It seemed only fair to let her bring up the subject when she was ready. After a silent minute had passed and she remained unmoving he took a cautious step closer, worried that she might be on the verge of passing out. Instead she suddenly blinked several times, his movement appearing to jar her from her thoughts. The color returned to her cheeks within a few seconds and she moved to lift up one of the pieces of clothing.  
  
I think it's too warm out for me to be wearing these pants. Do you have any scissors?  
  
Scissors no da? he echoed in confusion.  
  
An exasperated look passed over her features. Sorry, maybe a knife then?  
  
Chichiri studied the fabric held in her hands, recalling how thick and coarse the material had felt during the few times he'd handled it, and how heavy it had been after he'd washed out the numerous blood stains. Despite the long gash on the right leg he'd kept the pants, knowing that it would be simple to mend if she wished to keep them. But the dense weave of the fabric had been unlike anything he'd ever touched before. I don't think a knife will cut those no da.  
  
She looked the garment over and seemed to slowly realize the truth of his words. With a sigh she let the pants fall to her lap.  
  
You don't want to mend them no da?  
  
She shook her head and fingered the long tear in the fabric. I can feel how warm it is outside even inside the house. I'd probably roast wearing these pants today. But, then again, I guess I have no choice, she trailed off unhappily.  
  
Chichiri held out his hand for the pants, which she passed over with a frown on her face. With careful concentration he created an image and held it in his mind, letting the sense of the image move from simply being in his imagination, to being in the grip of his jutsu. He gathered a small quantity of his ki into his right hand and let it flow into the material of the pants, guiding the extension of his self to disperse evenly across the interwoven threads. With the fabric entirely infused and under his manipulation, he commanded the image held in his mind to become reality and watched the pants float into the air, held ridged as if they were suspended from a taught clothes line.  
  
He looked back to the bed, where Marissa was watching the display of magic with wide eyes and partly opened lips. Where would you like them cut no da?  
  
She swallowed before splitting into a bedazzled grin. Wow! That was awesome! How'd you do that? I didn't even see your hands move. How long will they stay up there? What are you going to do to cut them? I've never seen anyone do real magic before, that was amazing.  
  
Chichiri cleared his throat awkwardly. I used my jutsu no da. It allows me make things to respond to my will. As long as I have the image in my mind, it will stay that way no da.  
  
Inwardly, the seishi was mulling over the surprise he'd felt at her reaction; it was not the one he had been expecting, yet again. He'd learned long ago how people responded to any displays of power, the fear and the eventual hate that could bloom out of being unable to understand what they were being shown. From Taiitsukun he had learned about the gravity of his particular jutsu, one of the most powerful abilities for manipulation of the physical world, as well as the ability to tap into his ki, life force, and shape it according to his will. His early training with various Buddhist monks had prepared his mind for the seemingly infinite cache of knowledge that came with his destiny, understanding of how to bend the world at his command and become sensitive to the moods, intentions, and energies of those around him.  
  
What few people realized about the powers of the seishi was that they were acquired knowledge, not born purely out of instinct. The process of mastering an understanding of his jutsu had been less about creating ways to implement the magic, and more about practicing viable techniques that slowly filtered into his mind over time, as if they were being provided by the jutsu itself. Where that knowledge came from he could not say for certain, but he had an idea that would require Taiitsukun's admission to prove whether or not it was the truth. Many times while using his powers he had felt distant voices in his mind guiding the motion of his hands, or showing him the level of concentration needed to perform a task. Many times in situations of dire need, images would appear in his mind that taught him how to best solve the dilemma and bring himself or anyone with him out unharmed. Being the seishi Chichiri had been more about being a student to these subconscious teachers than actually crafting his powers according to his own wishes. That didn't mean he had never done anything on his own, in fact part of his jutsu seemed to be that the possibilities for its use were limited only by his imagination. If he could manage to will something hard enough, within certain boundaries, his jutsu would do its part to make it become reality.  
  
Marissa's shy voice floated almost timidly into his thoughts.   
  
He blinked, seeing the pants still suspended in midair before his eyes. Hai no da?  
  
Do you need me to show you where to cut them?  
  
Oh, yes, please no da.  
  
Marissa half rose from the bed, giving him a curious look that told him she was wondering where he had been floating off to during the last few minutes. He gave her a placating smile in reply, inwardly chiding himself for getting lost in his own thoughts so easily. She lifted her free hand and drew a line in the air across the upper legs of the pants, not quite bringing her fingers in contact with the magic infused fabric. When she sat back down Chichiri held out his right hand, signaling her to remain sitting while he complied with her request. This time he visualized the air in the room as a tangible thing, feeling how it moved and responded to his force of will. With careful manipulation he sculpted the air in front of him into a short, sharp blade, powerful enough to cut through flesh if he wished it. With a wordless command he sent the edge flying through the air across the space where Marissa had indicated with her fingers. The two severed pieces of fabric floated to land in a pile on the bedroom floor and the knife of air dissipated back to whence it had come.  
  
Wordlessly Marissa accepted the newly made pair of shorts as they floated to within arm's reach, her hands tentatively gripping the fabric. Thank you, she said softly.  
  
Feeling a bit smug that he'd managed to stun her into near silence, Chichiri turned with a smile and left the room to continue preparing her bath. He fished the warm stones out of the tub and placed them back into the fire, listening to the sounds of the water sizzle and evaporate from the heat of the flames. From there he moved to the side of the room opposite from the bedroom, where a smaller door stood closed against the wall. He lifted the simple latch and swung the door open, revealing a closet used for the storage of various barrels and crates. With the ease of familiarity he opened a box near the door and withdrew a bundle of dried soaproot and a coarse swatch of fabric. With a frown he realized many items would need to be replenished sooner than he'd originally planned now that there were two people sharing the house's supplies. He would need to speak to Chunseng about taking a trip into town for the elderly farmer.  
  
He placed the bundle on the table and was contemplating making that walk to the river to refill their rainwater barrel when Marissa's voice came from the bedroom.   
  
He poked his head around the door frame and replied to her call. Yes no da?  
  
Can I come out there now?  
  
She was sitting on the bed with her clothes balled together on her lap and a look of annoyance on her face that was quickly becoming familiar to the seishi. It was getting so easy to read her emotions that he felt a wicked, almost forgotten, urge to tease the scowl off her face. A few carefully chosen words and she'd probably go off like a firework. The temptation was almost too much and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking the words out loud. Instead he realized he was probably better off letting her have her way, he didn't feel like being caught in the blast if she did happen to go off the deep end. It was so hard to tell how a person would react to a little good natured teasing. At this point his only saving grace was his ability to play cheerfully dumb and get away with it. Sure no da!  
  
He came into the room the rest of the way and walked to her bedside. She stood up and allowed him to slip an arm around her back just under her shoulder blades. Together they moved slowly towards the open door, Marissa clutching tightly to the edge of his shirt as she hopped steadily forward. When they reached the main room he guided her to the closest bench and helped her to sit down, watching her look about the room with interest.  
  
It's a bit small, isn't it, she commented as she placed her clothing on the table.  
  
Chichiri shrugged, not quite sure what she was using to compare the room to. In his experience the house was considered spacious for a single person and adequately comfortable for two. A free standing, heavy table in the main room boasted two benches that could easily seat a total of four people, and the fireplace at the back of the room was large enough to fit a deep iron kettle over the flames. There was the small storage closet which kept their dried goods and extra medical supplies, and a series of shelves and built in drawers lined the empty wall between the fireplace and the front door. He'd found the place quite cozy, which was why he'd chosen to stay in residence for so long after the farmer made his offer. That and the local fishing was superb.  
  
He stood up straight and left Marissa to her observations, moving over to the fireplace to check on the heating stones. The flames had been burning quite hotly and steadily over the last half hour and the air was quickly growing warm around the hearth. Using the tongs he withdrew the lightly steaming rocks and dropped them back into the tub. When each of the stones was submerged he dipped his hand into the water and was pleased to feel that the temperature had risen significantly to a comfortable lukewarm.  
  
How hot would you like the water no da?  
  
Very hot, she replied immediately. I feel like I have a week's worth of dirt all over me and I can't wait to get it all off.  
  
Just about no da, he observed as he began fishing the rocks out of the tub once more.  
  
What did you say?  
  
Chichiri placed the stones back into the fireplace and counted off silently on his fingers. It's been five days since I found you in the woods no da.  
  
Oh. How long was I out then?  
  
About two whole days no da. At her surprised look he continued to explain. I had to well, you were not cooperating very well while I was trying to mend your leg no da. I had to use my ki to put you into a deep sleep; I might have over done it a bit no da.  
  
Unexpectedly she started laughing. I'm so sorry, I didn't hurt you did I?  
  
He smiled and shook his head. I do not believe you were fighting me as much as you were fighting against the pain no da. There was nothing I could do to prevent that, it was better to place you in a sleep deep enough so you would not feel what I had to do no da.  
  
He watched her touch the bands on her leg, as if reminding herself of the measures he'd had to take to save her life. I feel like I can't say it enough, but thank you, for all that you did.  
  
You're welcome no da. Though I'm sure I wasn't the only one who thought of coming to your aid, you scream quite loudly when you wish to no da, he teased lightly to offset her serious expression.  
  
Unfortunately his words seemed to have the opposite effect, as her eyes went wide. Why was I screaming?  
  
You don't remember no da?  
  
She shook her head, lips pressed together tightly. I don't remember anything. I've been trying to, but I'm scared to at the same time. I was walking through the woods and the next thing I knew I woke up here and saw you.  
  
Frowning a little in concern, Chichiri turned back to the fireplace to remove the reheated set of stones and drop them into the tub. He gently swirled the warm water with the palm of his hand and wondered how long he could stall telling her of the attack in the clearing. Why were you walking in the woods in the first place no da?  
  
Er, this is going to sound weird, but I fell into a pond.  
  
How is that weird no da? Did you trip or get pushed in no da?  
  
She shook her head. I fell in. See, I had been sitting in my room, and I was going to start reading the books I told you about that tell of your world and the Suzaku no Miko. But there was this bright light, it was like liquid, and it pulled me in. The next thing I knew I was falling through the air and then I hit the pond. It scared me so badly, I thought I was going to drown. I must have just swam really hard and managed to get out. I didn't know where I was either, I thought she paused and laughed a nervous chuckle. I thought I was dreaming. It didn't even occur to me that I might have gotten pulled into the books, I mean, that just doesn't happen in the real world. So I walked and walked and then I think well I'm not sure what happened, I might have heard a noise. But the next thing I remember is waking up here.  
  
Chichiri listened to her narrative quietly, absorbing this new information. Rather than shed light upon her mysterious appearance in their world it seemed to only add more questions upon the ones he already had. Falling out of the sky and luckily managing to land in a pond and not on the hard ground? That spoke of some kind of divine intervention, though whose hand had played a role in her arrival was the important question.  
  
You were very lucky, Mari-chan no da.  
  
She didn't reply and simply shrugged. He was aware of how deeply her resentment ran at being in his world, words were unnecessary at this point when they both knew her opinion on the matter. After their initial discussion on possible reasons why she might be here, he'd realized how futile it would be to try and convince her, for the time being at least, that she might be serving a greater purpose. A carefully shielded part of himself, a piece of the young man he used to be, could relate to her feelings of fear and denial. He had felt much the same for a period of his life, unable to accept that he was might be meant to be part of something greater. It wasn't until Taiitsukun had seen to intervene and tell him of the coming of the Suzaku no Miko that he'd realized exactly what kind of destiny awaited him. Without that assurance of having a purpose for living, regardless of bearing the mark of a seishi, he knew with a kind of detached bitterness that he would not have remained living much longer past his twenty-first birthday. He had been offered a choice, one that Marissa might end up facing soon as well. A person could either learn to accept their destiny and walk the path, or fight it every step and probably end up hurting themselves and those intertwined with their destiny along the way.  
  
The silence lasted between them over many minutes as Chichiri moved the rocks back into the fireplace and then into the waiting tub one last time. The water had finally moved from pleasantly lukewarm to a tingly hot that felt uncomfortably like sweat against his hands, in fact the entire main room had been steadily heating up from the flames in the fireplace. Chichiri left the rocks to settle in the bottom of the tub as he moved away from the hearth, plucking at the collar of his shirt when a long bead of sweat ran down his neck. He went back to the small storage closet and fished around inside the same crate as before until he located a long stick of bamboo that was finely sliced and frayed at one end. Coming back to the table, he placed it beside the bundle of soaproot and looked to the woman who had been following his movements around the room with curious eyes.  
  
The bath is ready no da. Do you need any help with with anything no da? Chichiri swallowed and scratched at the side of his jaw, trying not to appear uncomfortable. It had been so much easier being clinical about her physical body while she was unconscious. _Quit being such a pervert, you'll just scare the poor girl to pieces.  
  
_ Marissa's cheeks were turning pink, but he told himself that it only because of the heat circulating through the tiny room. No, that's okay, thanks. What are these for? she asked, pointing to the small pile on the table.  
  
He picked up the bamboo stick and waved it in front of his mouth. This is for cleaning your teeth no da. He grinned in reply to her raised eyebrow and doubtful expression. I'm serious no da. And this, he pulled free a few of the brown fibers from the bundle of soaproot. Is what you wash with no da. Soak them in the water until they are soft then scrub them on the cloth until it lathers no da. If you need more just take as many pieces as you need from the bundle. Ok no da?  
  
Marissa picked up the bamboo stick from the table, rolling it between her fingers. Am I supposed to wash my hair with that soap too?  
  
What else would you wash it with no da? I might have some scented oils, I think girls like to make their hair smell nice, but I would have to check and se-  
  
No, that's okay, Marissa interrupted. Do I at least get a towel to dry myself off with?  
  
Uh, no, Chichiri replied, growing perplexed. How could one person make taking a bath seem so complicated? You just washed, rinsed, and let the sun dry you. He couldn't understand why she seemed to find it so necessary to make a big production out of a fairly simple process. Can you get dry in front of the fire no da?  
  
I suppose so, she conceded. Pushing off with her hands she moved to rise from the table. Well I suppose I better get started, you can go now.  
  
Chichiri watched her struggle to gain her balance and moved to stand beside her. Let me help you into the tub and then I'll leave no da.  
  
Help me... into... er, okay.  
  
She let him take hold of her right arm as they slowly walked the few steps towards the wooden tub. When they reached it he released her arm to fish out the stones and place them beside the hearth, the water now hot enough to redden the skin on his hands as he tested the temperature.  
  
I'm going to pick you up now no da. That warning was all he gave before scooping the surprised girl into his arms and lifted her feet over the edge of the tub. He gently set her standing in the hot water, which came midway up her calves. The tub appeared large enough to fit her sitting down with her legs bent, though Chichiri could not say for sure, as he had found little reason to use the vessel during his stay in the house. He was slightly taller than Marissa, the top of her head coming up level with his eyes, yet he doubted he'd ever be comfortable using the tub for bathing. If she desired to use it regularly he had no trouble turning it over to her for her sole use. Besides, it might make her a bit happier, since she seemed so concerned with taking hot baths.  
  
In the meantime, the water inside the large iron kettle had come to a frothing boil and was sending out tendrils of steam up the stone chimney. Chichiri used a heavy rag to lift the kettle off its iron hook and carefully poured the bubbling water into the wooden bucket which had been left beside the tub.  
  
Use this to rise yourself off with when you're done no da, he informed her when the kettle was emptied. Then, crossing his arms over his chest, he surveyed the room and the girl standing uncertainly on one foot in the basin.  
  
Before he even realized what he was doing, he kneeled in front of the tub and lifted his hands to untie the bandages around her thigh. You shouldn't get these wet no da, he informed her as he loosened the knot holding them in place. In the firelight the skin on her legs glowed rosy-orange, smooth from ankle to thigh except for a few superficial blemishes and small patches of dry skin on her knees and shins. One small scar just above her right knee bone caught his eye as he began unwinding the fabric, unaware of the girl who had stiffened into perfect stillness above him. It was when his right hand reached between her knees to grasp the loosened end of the bandage that he stopped, suddenly aware of his position on the floor and every place his hands were touching her bare skin.  
  
In that moment of confused realization Marissa's hand slid into his vision and took hold of the dangling piece of gauze behind her thigh. I can take care of it, she said softly, her breathing shallow.  
  
He couldn't think of any other way to describe it, but it was as though invisible strings were pulling on his chin, forcing him to look up. An overwhelmingly curious part of him wanted to know what expression was held on a woman's face while saying such soft, breathless words. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks were flushed dark red in the fire's light, a surprised plea in her eyes. The frozen stance of her body seemed to be fighting against the minute trembles he could feel moving through her from head to toe under the tips of his fingers. In that moment his body wanted nothing more in the world than to remaining kneeling in front of this glowing and soft female, to worship her from the top of her head to her toes and do everything in his power to make sure those trembles never stopped.  
  
Her mouth parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. By this point a small voice in his head was telling himself quite firmly to get up and move far, far away from her. But his body has other ideas, as the fingers on his right hand slid across the skin on the inside of her knee, bringing the palm of his hand to cup the soft skin there. It was this full contact, and the sudden jolt of electricity and desire that flooded through him, that broke though his daze and allowed him to quickly stand upright. He took a step back from the tub and clenched both hands at his sides, feeling the sting of the flames' heat soaking through the back of his shirt.  
  
Yes, sorry, you're right, you'd best wash while the water is still warm. I'll be outside waiting, let me know when you're done, take as long as you need. You'll have complete privacy no da.  
  
Chichiri turned and headed for the front door, but stopped to close the room's window and latch it from the inside to make good on his promise of privacy for her. When he was finally outside and the door was shut behind him, he found his feet unable to move beyond the front door. The scenery across the road was lost on him as he drew in a heavy breath and let it out in a panicked exhale. His body was thrumming and his thoughts were in turmoil. What had just happened in there? How could he had allowed something so stupid to happen?  
  
_You touched her!_ he screamed at himself inwardly. _Never, ever, let that happen again. Do you hear me you selfish idiot? Never. Again.  
  
_  
  
When his breathing finally came back under his control Chichiri stepped away from the front door. There was nothing else to do but wait outside until she was finished. He found a dry area on the stone walkway leading from the house to the road and sat down slowly into a cross-legged position. The shock he had felt at his body's reaction was fading away fast under the discipline learned during several years of training at the Buddhist temples. With precise control he cleared his mind and let his eyes drift closed, feeling a calm, trancelike state move in to the void where his tumultuous thoughts had been moments before.  
  
Connected this way to his mind and body, time ceased to exist in his awareness. All that mattered was being conscious of his ki and how it blended with the world around him. The stones under his legs were forgotten, the breeze caressing his face ignored, and the sounds of the forest died to a hum that was not heard but rather sensed. With a single thought he sent out his ki in a wide circle around the house, tasting colors that existed only on the ethereal plane where they coincided with this area of the physical world. Finding nothing amiss, as he had expected it to be, he set to work reinforcing the webs of his ki he had placed at the edges of that circle of awareness. The webs were constructed from pieces of his own life energy, invisible filaments that when touched by either a physical or mental force would alert him to their presence. He could know the direction and the size of the force that broke through the web, but it always required further investigation to discover what exactly was approaching the house. So far it had only been passing merchants, curious animals, Chunseng himself or one of his older children that had ventured into the vicinity. But still, after living for many months under the threat of attack from numerous evils, it didn't hurt to be cautious.  
  
With the webs reinforced to his satisfaction Chichiri withdrew his perception until it rested back inside his body, letting the calm void fill the space where his thoughts would have been otherwise. Here he felt no emotion, felt nothing, simply existed as an inner force that hummed with life. He relished in this sensation of nothing until his ki had become subdued and languid, like a pool of water without a single ripple upon the surface. Then slowly, like liquid moving through a sieve, he allowed many of his recent thoughts over the past few days to trickle through for his inspection. They were observed from every angle, catalogued, and tucked away in an empty pocket where they might be retrieved later. Many of his thoughts and observations which felt important enough to warrant this were subjected to the methodical treatment, save for any pertaining to the recent incident with the bathtub; those were shoved aside and, promptly, forgotten.  
  
An unknown amount of time later Chichiri stirred from his deep meditative state and again checked his surroundings using the inner sight of his ki. He was still alone in front of the house and little had changed since his last surveillance. Like reeling in a fishing line, he brought his awareness back to his core and then focused it on the house behind him, touching upon the aura of the girl who was still inside it. He could tell nothing as specific as her thoughts, but emotions were easy to read in her aura as well as her relative position within the house. To his dismay she was moving around and appeared to be coming towards the front door.  
  
Opening his eye he pushed off from the ground and came to his feet. In two steps he was back at the door and knocking upon it loudly. Mari-chan? Are you done no da?  
  
There was the sound of a muted scuffle and Marissa's voice replying. Yes, I'm coming.  
  
With a simple command Chichiri caused the latch to lift on the inside of the door and pushed in with his left hand. Marissa stood at the end of the table, just a few steps away from the door, and blinked against the incoming light. When she finally saw the frown on Chichiri's face she smiled a bit sheepishly.  
  
I'm sorry, I didn't know when you were coming back, so I thought I'd go outside to wait.  
  
Chichiri decided against telling her that he'd only been a few steps in front of the door the entire time. Wait right there no da.  
  
He stepped around her into the house, opening the inner window as he passed by it. Going to the wall holding the shelves and drawers he picked up his fishing rod, a ball of twine, and his kesa. He dropped the kesa around his shoulders as he walked back to the door where he met Marissa on her right side and took a firm grip of her upper arm. Ready no da?  
  
She nodded and they slowly made their way out of the house. Marissa appeared much more refreshed and awake. Her dark, wet hair was wrapped up in a tight bun at the base of her neck and poked through with one of the dinner chopsticks. Chichiri eyed it in amusement as they stepped into the midmorning sunlight. She was wearing his spare shirt but had left it open at the collar, exposing a wide V of pale skin that boasted two tiny brown beauty marks. The top swell of her breasts had also become much more noticeable, which prompted Chichiri to quickly divert his eyes down and away from the sight. She had tucked the shirt into the waist of her blue shorts, which left a substantial amount of leg visible. He hadn't realized that the shorts would cover only to the top of the bandage around her thigh. Forcing his eyes down even lower, he was relieved to see the relatively safe image of her bare feet in the curious pair of shoes she'd had on her when he found her.  
  
Where are we going? Marissa asked, studying the fishing pole in his other hand.  
  
Just to the river no da, he replied.  
  
Awesome, lets go! she exclaimed and took off hopping on one foot towards the corner of the house.  
  
Chichiri scolded and caught up to the bouncing girl. You're just going to fall down and get hurt doing that no da.  
  
He held out the fishing pole and ball of string for her to take, which she did with an disappointed pout on her face. Hold on tight to me and don't drop them no da, he warned. With one hand on her back he leaned down and put another arm just under her knees, picking Marissa up to cradle her against his chest.  
  
Despite her grumbled protest she took his suggestion seriously and circled her left arm around his shoulder while keeping a tight grip on the fishing pole. The walk over the uneven grassy ground bounced her quite strongly in his arms, enough that he had to readjust his grip on her legs twice to keep them from slipping out of his grip, much to Marissa's discomfort. By the third time he gave in not wishing to make any kind of skin contact and cupped his hand around the space just above her right knee. He found himself focusing intently on the number of steps he had taken and how much farther they had to go before they reached his favorite fishing spot on the riverbank.  
  
Though in reality the walk had only taken under ten minutes, Chichiri found himself slightly out of breath by the time he set Marissa down beside a boulder mostly buried in the grass covered soil of the riverbank. He scowled inwardly at himself, unable to see why in the process of trying to be helpful to this injured girl he was also being subjected to such pointless physical reactions to her presence. He'd been around women before, had even held Miaka in his arms a few times, but none of those times compared to this excited awareness that was quickly becoming more annoying than pleasant. He was sure that given enough time he could learn to suppress the reactions, as there was little about himself that could escape his discipline and mental control. Regardless that it seemed to be a physical matter he hadn't had to deal with since he'd been a boy on the verge of manhood, he saw it as a challenge rather than an obstacle. He would beat this thing and make sure it never happened again.  
  
Marissa must have caught his unhappy expression, as her smile quickly died when she turned to hand him the fishing pole and twine. I'm sorry, she apologized quickly. I wasn't really heavy was I? I can walk back to the house later, it wasn't really that far.  
  
Chichiri shook his head, chasing away his inner thoughts in the process. That's not it no da. I was just a little winded, I'll be fine when we go back no da.  
  
He took the pole and string from her outstretched hand and then directed her to sit on a flat space on the boulder's surface. Walking around to the other side of the natural bench, he sat down a comfortable distance away from her at the head of the boulder. Seated like that his fishing line had a clear drop into the river, which ran just a step downhill from their spot. He drew out several arm lengths of twine and snipped them using the same kind of manipulation to the air he had done to cut Marissa's shorts. The fishing pole he wrapped the line around was really nothing more than a flexible wooden pole polished smooth and harboring several well worn grooves around the grip. The top of it was notched to hold a loop of fishing line and prevent it from slipping off. Chichiri used some of his ki to add a little extra hold to the where the string and pole met, as well as an illusion of a tasty worm on the end of the line, since what was the point of having jutsu if you couldn't use it to help yourself catch a fish?  
  
Feeling much more relaxed already, he dropped the line into the steady flowing water and watched it drift in the current as it was dragged downstream to his left.  
  
You don't use any bait? Marissa asked from over his right shoulder.  
  
Chichiri gave the rod a little swing in the water, dragging the line back and forth. Sorta no da.  
  
He felt movement behind him as Marissa scooted closer to his back. Her legs appeared next to his and swung over the edge of the boulder.  
  
I don't get it.  
  
I make the fish think there's a worm no da. I don't like killing a worm for bait if I don't have to no da.  
  
You cheat? Marissa asked in disbelief.  
  
Chichiri pulled on the edge of his kesa with his free hand, yanking it out from underneath his legs. It's not cheating no da, he protested.  
  
Marissa leaned forward into his peripheral vision. I thought using your powers for menial things was against the rules.  
  
It's not if no one knows about it no da, he muttered, feeling abnormally defensive against the personal use of his powers.  
  
The girl beside him let out a muffled giggle and Chichiri realized he had been provoked without even being aware of it. He was oddly pleased to find out that he wasn't the only one who felt the urge to tease every now and then. He promised himself not to hold back the next time he got the urge to tick her off with a few well thrown words. She may have won this small battle, but the war was just getting started now that she'd placed herself as a willing participant in the game.  
  
Their companionable silence lasted for another half hour without interruption while Chichiri fished and Marissa sun dried herself on the boulder. At one point she released her hair from the hashi, the smell of soaproot, water, and something sweet drifting past Chichiri's nose as the wind lifted the burgundy strands around her shoulders. He was finding it more peaceful than he had expected it to be with them both sitting there on the boulder. His prior experiences when it came to attempting to fish while someone else was in the vicinity usually led to interruptions that eventually dragged him away from the task. It chagrined him to recall how often he'd been questioned as to whether he'd caught anything yet, or why he enjoyed the hobby so much. He firmly believed people were entitled to their unusual pastimes if it brought them joy and comfort.  
  
He wondered what Marissa's reasons were for staying silent, if there were any to be given. But then again, he supposed it was biased of him to assume that everyone acted like certain members of the Suzaku seishi, or even like an annoying Nyan Nyan. Neither of those people could stand being quiet for very long. For awhile there he had been starting to think that he was destined to be around people who couldn't appreciate the value of silence and the inner peace it brought with it. Could she know about his preference for quiet and was simply not speaking because of that? If that was true, how many other things was she doing and saying only because she knew enough to judge his reactions? The thought was unsettling. Now his curiosity was starting to take hold the more he thought about her words. _I've read the story of everything that's happened so far... that's not all I know.'  
  
_ So what exactly did she know about concerning the past and future? And how intimate was that knowledge? Knowing the story about the Miko and her seishi was one thing, any commoner you asked would tell you that story with lots of embellishment and how they had once seen the Miko as she passed through their village. But knowing the true story of the Miko was another matter. Common people didn't know about the fact that the two Mikos had been best friends, nor about the love triangles which existed between so many of the seishi, or about the final battle which had taken place in Miaka's world. He wondered how much he could find out about her knowledge through their agreement to exchange information. Though he had promised to teach her how to live in ancient China, something about her reasons still unsettled him deeply. And that brought him back to her reaction towards his promise to take her to see Taiitsukun. What did she know? Was it something he was going to find out when he got there? Should he ask her and find out now? He hated this feeling that he might be walking into some kind of unknown danger and the only person who knew anything that might help him was determined to leave his side as soon as possible.  
  
He fought with himself inwardly for several minutes before finally working up the courage to break the silence and ask the questions that were nagging him.   
  
she answered lazily from beside him.  
  
Twisting his head to the side he saw that she was reclining on the boulder, legs still over the edge and palms flat behind her as she leaned back. Both her eyes were closed, as if she were soaking up the afternoon warmth of the sun.  
  
You seemed upset when I mentioned going to see Taiitsukun no da. Why was that no da? He watched her stir and open both eyes, giving him a calm but curious look.  
  
I'm not sure, she admitted, glancing away from his stare to look upriver from them. I think I'm just scared is all.  
  
Why no da?  
  
She turned her head to look back at him and gave him a little half smile. Well think about it from my perspective. She's the overlord of this world. What if she gets really pissed off that I'm here? I don't want a deity mad at me, she reasoned meekly.  
  
She's not going to be mad you no da, he argued, letting the fishing pole on his lap go slack. He had a feeling he wasn't going to catch anything anytime soon.  
  
Marissa only narrowed her eyes at him, but the look wasn't malicious, simply saying that she highly doubted his reasoning. You don't know that for sure.  
  
Have you done anything to make her mad no da?  
  
Well, besides being here, no.  
  
Chichiri took on a nonchalant tone. What's so bad about being in our world no da?  
  
Nothing, it's just that I mean, if you were the guardian of something as big as the whole world, and some girl came along who was never meant to be there in the first place, and on top of that she knew things about very important future events that might change just from her being around, wouldn't you be unhappy?  
  
I might no da, Chichiri admitted. But what if I had brought the girl here to change the future no da?  
  
Marissa snorted, clearly not buying that theory. I'm not special or unique, I was just another fan of the story. I don't see why that would single me out.  
  
Now where had he heard those words before? Oh yes, he'd said them, plenty of times during his wanderings and studies with the Buddhist monks. A little part of himself that still remembered the pain of those years sympathized with her feelings of isolation. But until they talked to Taiitsukun he could make no promises to lighten her mood.  
  
It's not all that bad is it no da? he asked, striving to remain sounding not as curious as he felt.  
  
She was silent for so long that Chichiri almost wanted to reach over and shake her. The suspense she was creating was going to drive him nuts if he couldn't find out what she knew.  
  
It's bad, she answered finally, her voice uncharacteristically heavy.  
  
Her serious answer to his question formed a hard pit in the bottom of his stomach. Surely the future couldn't be _that_ bad, could it? But something in her attitude and his recollection of the way she'd been so sure that she wouldn't be there in a year made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. What happens no da?  
  
She immediately shook her head vehemently. I'm not going to tell you anything, she stated firmly.  
  
Inwardly a part of him was admiring her resolution to not upset the timeline, while another part was growling in annoyance at her stubbornness. With a little sigh that sounded more like a wistful, he turned back to his fishing. He had no right to be upset with her and found he couldn't hold onto his irritation for very long the more he thought about her precarious situation. Knowledge of the future was a very valuable and dangerous thing. He hoped her safety wouldn't be called into question because of the information she possessed. The sooner he took her to see Taiitsukun, the better.  
  
Are you still worried about seeing Taiitsukun no da?  
  
she admitted. She could think I'm a liability and demand to know what I know about the future.  
  
Chichiri swallowed, feeling properly chastised by her words. I didn't mean to press no da, he apologized.  
  
A light pressure poked momentarily against his bicep where Marissa's finger pressed against his shirt. Don't apologize, she said quietly. I'd be asking the same thing if our positions were reversed. Just don't ask me again I might not be able to say no next time.  
  
Chichiri nodded in understanding and resisted the urge to rub away the spot on his arm where her finger had touched. I don't think she'll ask that of you no da, he said, trying to sound reassuring.  
  
She only grunted in disagreement, which caused a small throbbing vein to pop up on Chichiri's forehead. She was being so morbidly stubborn that it was acerbating his urge to smack her over the top of her head with his fishing pole. It had always worked for Tasuki to make him shut up and forget about being depressed.  
  
Well have you ever met Taiitsukun no da?  
  
Of course not.  
  
Then how do you know what she is going to say no da?  
  
I just... I've seen what she's like enough times to have a good idea. Taiitsukun has a right to be suspicious of me. I just hope she doesn't stick me in a mirror or anything.  
  
Chichiri bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud at the genuine worry he heard in her voice over being stuck in a mirror. Taiitsukun reminded him more of a toothless old cat than any kind of powerful deity. She could hiss and spittle and sometimes scratch, but she had absolutely no bite behind her threats. However at this point he was ready to give up trying to think of a way to help Marissa see that being in their world wasn't a crime, which was why he hoped Taiitsukun had a better explanation. The old woman enjoyed being vague and thinking she was tugging on big cosmic strings, but in reality it was people themselves who ultimately decided what they would do and believe in. But even he knew that some things were just beyond human awareness, if simply because they hadn't come to pass yet. That was the only true power Taiitsukun really had, the ability to supply knowledge at her discretion about the past, present, and possible future. He felt it was a genuine shame that more people didn't see that as the truth.  
  
I think you worry too much no da, he teased lightly and was happy to see a small smile flitter across her face when he glanced to the side.  
  
I know. You're right, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be expecting the worst, she retorted, but the half smile was still there.  
  
I'd take the mirror over being trapped in the middle of the desert again any day no da, he said with a wistful sigh.  
  
Marissa chuckled softly. God I hated Tomo, she muttered. Sitting up straight she began dusting off each of her palms, which were flecked with bits of grass and dirt. By the way, why are you staying at this house?  
  
It took Chichiri a moment to register her question, as he had been silently applauding himself for getting her to reveal that she knew about the brief time the seishi had spent trapped inside one of Tomo's illusions. He wondered if she'd be more willing to reveal information about the past despite her great reluctance to speak of things in the future. Um... it has good fishing nearby no da.  
  
Marissa raised a dubious eyebrow. You're kidding.  
  
Not kidding no da, he reaffirmed. The river on Chunseng's land is very plentiful of fish no da. Chunseng does not know how to fish well because he is always tending to his land, so I fish for him while I am here and get a house to live in no da.  
  
That doesn't make sense. Why aren't you living at the palace if you need somewhere to stay? I wouldn't be surprised if you could buy or build a home anywhere you wanted, you're a famous seishi.  
  
Chichiri smiled enigmatically and shook his head. I am a wandering monk no da.  
  
You're not wandering right now, Marissa pointed out.  
  
Chichiri felt himself quickly growing amused by this line of conversation. He could have sworn he'd had a similar one with Tasuki not long before they parted ways a few months ago. His smile went from enigmatic to cheeky. What do you do in life, Mari-chan no da?  
  
Do? I well, I'm a student. She looked clearly puzzled by his change in topic.  
  
And what do you do to be a student no da?  
  
Marissa fixed him with a perturbed expression. I go to school, she answered, pressing her lips together. And I study a lot. I write essays, reports, take tests, I take all the classes I need to get the degree I'm working towards. That's what a student does.  
  
Though he hadn't understood half of what she'd said, the point he wanted to make could be expressed regardless. I am a wandering monk no da. I move from town to town, helping those in need, giving them news about the war with Kotou, and telling them about the Suzaku no Miko and her seven seishi. That is what a wandering monk does no da.  
  
And you're going to do that _forever_?  
  
Yes no da.  
  
Marissa's eyes fell and she looked away. That's a shame.  
  
Why no da?  
  
It just seems, in my opinion, that there's a lot more to do in life. I think you're short-changing yourself.  
  
It was strange how in the span of a few moments what had progressed into an amusing discussion had gone back to something much more serious. Though he was hesitant to admit it, in the deepest corner of his heart those words reflected something that tried to break free every now and then before he could squash the thought. It seemed sacrilegious to even contemplate thinking something so simple that might have the power to make him question everything he had decided to live for. He had made his promises over enough graves to know what sort of path he was planning on walking down for the rest of his life. _Retribution... penance... obligation. I made too many promises I can't break.  
  
_ I don't think so no da, he said after a moment. But deep down he knew he was trying to convince himself more than he was trying to convince her.  
  
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Niki, my fanartist, my friend, and the person who has never run out of questions when it comes to trying to understand this mysterious masked monk a bit better. 


	7. Chapter 6: Rainbow Mountain

Chapter 6 - Rainbow Mountain  
  
_An unexpected prompting comes from Heaven -  
Mount T'ai gives its riches completely unexpectedly -  
However, it's good for you to know what could happen to you;  
The wise one has ways and means to help you travel on._

The hot water cradling her lower body steamed around Marissa, creating a misty curtain inside the walls of the tub that isolated her from the rest of the world. Her skin was quickly turning a deep rosy pink as she lifted handfuls of the water and poured it over her shoulders. The bath felt heavenly, as if she could feel the flakes of dirt, dried blood, and dead skin falling off of her body with each rivulet that slid down her back and chest. She brought another handful to the crown of her head and let the water drain through her loose hair, shivering as it cooled on its path over her neck and shoulder blades. But instead of returning her hands to the water they stayed cupped over her eyes, fingers pressing into the center of her forehead. After a moment her head and hands dropped forward to her knees, shoulders shaking under weight of her emotions.  
  
She was mortified. No, more than that, she wanted to melt with shame into the bath water and stop thinking entirely. If only she could take back the last half hour, do something to change what had happened, anything to prevent the way her body had reacted to Chichiri being so near her. She hadn't thought something like that could happen, to feel longing so strongly and be so scared at the same time. Nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for the intense heat and shock that came from such simple skin-to-skin contact. He had only been trying to help her and she had nearly jumped out of her skin when his hands touched her leg. He must think the worst of her now for freaking out, because he had touched her in one of the most nonromantic ways possible. Her body had acted like it had never tasted desire before, had never been that near to a man, had never wanted a man that way before. It was deeply embarrassing to remember how much she'd wished he would touch her more. What kind of a pathetic wanton woman was she?  
  
He had looked so confused and surprised too. In her mind she could hear him asking, "What's wrong no da?" with those innocent eyes of his. Her knee had probably come within an inch of slamming into his face from the way it had jerked out of his touch, it was no wonder he had stood up so fast. It seemed that was how she repaid someone for their kindness, kicked them in the face while fighting the urge to reach a little closer and run her fingers through their hair. Nothing in her life had felt so powerful and yet so shamefully wrong at the same time. He was just a character in a book for chrissakes, an innocent image who needed more time to himself and less spent with an infatuated girl that turned into mush every time he stood within two feet of her.  
  
Marissa wrapped her arms around her shins and rocked in the water, ignoring the pain in her thigh and ribcage from the motion and the goose bumps that rose on her flesh where the water was evaporating. She had to face him sooner or later and when she did she would have to pretend that none of it had ever happened. Moreover, she had to make sure it never happened again. It was pointless and wrong of her to feel that way about a fictional person.  
  
_Never again,_ she told herself, and tried her best to believe that it was the truth.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
Much later that day, while Marissa stood on one leg in front of the bed unbuttoning her shorts, she realized that for the first time in awhile she was going to fall asleep happy.  
  
To her unexpected, and welcome surprise, the rest of the afternoon had passed peacefully and uneventfully. They had enjoyed a quiet dinner with the fish Chichiri had caught and then sat in silence while she'd sipped tea and he had meditated on the floor. But it was the tranquility of the time spent on the grassy river bank that had helped to sweep away all the discomfort she'd felt earlier in the morning, confused feelings and embarrassing bodily reactions alike. Given the chance to breathe in fresh air and feel the warm sun on her face had done wonders for her frame of mind and outlook on her situation. She almost regretted the dour mood she had been stuck in during the last few days, though at the time it couldn't have been helped. She was still trapped here without a clear way to get home, but for the first time in awhile she felt alive and free of the worries that had plagued her waking thoughts for as long as she could remember. She would never have guessed that sitting on the grass with her bare feet digging into the dirt would help her forgot about the rest of the world so easily. She had been given the chance to look inside herself without interruption or the rest of the world banging on her ears; and to her surprise, she had been okay with what she saw there.  
  
Sliding gingerly under the blanket, she wondered seriously for the first time what her fate might be if she was stuck permanently in this world. With a feeling of contentment she found she didn't care nearly as much as she had before, not when being here meant being able to find that kind of solace just from walking a few steps beyond the front door of a house. Life really was simpler here, and quiet, and so many things she hadn't realized she'd been missing until she'd found them on the banks of the river. With a smile on her lips, she fell asleep with the smell of sun kissed grass under her nose and the sound of water bubbling in her ears, and the quiet strength of a man just out of sight beyond her left shoulder.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
"Chiriko!!"  
  
Marissa was jolted awake by the anguished cry. She blinked into the darkness then sat up in bed, her heart pounding like a caged bird against her chest.  
  
"Chichiri?" she whispered fearfully.  
  
No reply met her ears, save for someone's heavy breathing that was not her own. It gradually slowed over the course of several drawn out seconds, until out of the quiet came a raspy pain-filled whisper.  
  
"Doushite... yakusoku mamori... doushite Chiriko!?" Chichiri's hushed voice ended on a broken sob.  
  
Marissa flung back the blanket and rolled herself to the edge of the bed, peering earnestly into the darkness where Chichiri should be laying. The urge to reach out to him was strong, to wake him and reassure herself that he was alright, but her hands stayed beneath her and gripped the mattress as if they were afraid she would tumble off if she let go. It was so dark and he was so far away from her and he sounded so scared. What could she do?  
  
"Chichiri," she pleaded in a whisper. "Wake up please, you're having a bad dream."  
  
But her words changed nothing as he continued to pant and thrash on the mat, a low moan of distress sending chills down her spine.  
  
"Daijoubu, Chichiri. Yume ga. Mezameru, onegai," she begged him, her voice cracking with worry.  
  
Over a long minute his movements gradually stopped, and his next words were far steadier and hushed in bewilderment, as if he were finally awakening from the nightmare that had gripped him. "Yume... ka?"  
  
"Hai," she answered in a rush, relief flooding through her. After a moment, and to her surprise, she heard a rustle of blankets being moved and felt the air shift as Chichiri rose out of bed. His feet padded lightly on the floor until the inner door was opened, where his dark silhouette could be made out disappearing into the next room. She settled back on the bed, drawing the blanket up to her chin worriedly. Had he really been having a nightmare about Chiriko? Could he have been seeing his death all over again? It made the hairs on her arms and face prickle as the haunted words he'd whispered echoed through her mind, like a cube of ice being slid from her neck to her toes.  
  
A dark shape reappeared in the open doorway and took a step across the floor before stopping. "Mari-chan?" Chichiri inquired, his voice muted.  
  
"Yes?" she answered from the bed, matching his subdued tone.  
  
"I'm sorry I woke you no da." The door creaked as he shut it behind himself. He walked to his bedroll and lay back down upon it with a soft grunt, the blanket rustling as he repositioned it in the darkness.  
  
"It's okay," Marissa said once his movements had settled. She heard him turn over.  
  
The silence stretched on but she was sure he hadn't fallen asleep yet. She was burning inside to know what he had been dreaming about, if her suspicion was right.  
  
"What were you dreaming about?" she asked softly.  
  
When Chichiri remained silent she wondered regretfully if she had overstepped her bounds, until a low sigh came from his side of the room.  
  
"I don't remember no da."  
  
"You called out Chiriko's name."  
  
He didn't reply at first, simply lay there breathing in the dark. "I'm sorry no da."  
  
Marissa swallowed, her cheeks burning. "Do you dream about him a lot?"  
  
She heard the blankets rustle as he turned over again. When he spoke she could tell that he was facing towards her. "Sometimes no da," he admitted somberly, as if it pained him to even utter the words.  
  
"It was really sad."  
  
"He was very young no da," he amended.  
  
"He was also very brave," she contradicted softly.  
  
Chichiri remained silent after those words.  
  
Marissa squeezed her eyes shut, listening to her heartbeat pound on the inside of her ears. "Do you dream about the others too?"  
  
His reply came after a long moment and was barely above a whisper. "Yes."  
  
Marissa bit her lip. "I'm sorry."  
  
"I am too no da." There was a bitter undertone to those words that pulled at her heart.  
  
"They died happy you know," she said, not quite sure where her mouth was going before her sleepy thoughts could catch up. "They protected their Miko and allowed the rest of you to keep going. They were all very brave."  
  
Chichiri turned over again with a grunt, his voice almost sulky. "Does that make me not brave no da?"  
  
"Chichiri," she pleaded softly, her heart aching at the raw loathing she heard in that question. "You are the bravest man I have ever known."  
  
There seemed to be little else to say after that and with a hushed sigh Marissa turned her head into the pillow. Something deep had been shared this night, yet she could not bring herself to be happy about it. His grief-stricken words lingered in her mind like a tattoo branded to her memories. Those moments on a television screen paled in comparison to the grief and misery that came from this man. There was nothing she could hope to say or do against such strong memories, which made the sting of the images they invoked all the more poignant. Shame clouded her thoughts as she realized just how much she had underestimated those moments in Chichiri's life.  
  
Succumbing once more to the call of sleep, she could have sworn she heard a murmur of thought different than her own inner voice. It glided through her mind, clearing her thoughts in its wake and delivering her into darkness. _Arigatou...  
  
_= = = = = = =  
  
The first time Marissa awoke in the morning she was too nervous to go back to sleep. Today was the day. Today she would be going to see Taiitsukun. That thought and the anxiety it caused in her belly made her sit up slowly in the bed, feeling not so different from a trapped animal awaiting the slaughter. She blinked against a wide yawn and started picking away the dried bits at the edges of her eyes, her body curling in on itself to ward away the cool air as much as shield herself from the reality of the new day. Head bowed she flicked away the grains of grit under her nails, watching them fly over the edge of the bed. When her eyes were clear she yawned again and rubbed her face vigorously, debating briefly whether she could hope to return to sleep and catch another hour just to prolong the inevitable. It would be impossible, she decided after a moment. She was too awake now.  
  
Turning to her right she reached for the pile of clothes on the chair beside her bed and stopped mid-reach. A masculine snore rumbled from the sleeping figure just a few feet away on the floor. The sleeping, partially clothed, male, figure.  
  
Marissa swallowed and snatched her shorts and underwear off the chair, as if afraid of being caught with her arm sticking out in mid air like that. Chichiri had always managed to be awake before her in the past; she could have sworn he was able to survive off no more than five hours of sleep every night. She'd almost begun to take for granted that every night she would go to bed with him the next room and wake up with him already dressed and gone. But not this morning. Was it really all that early? Or had the nightmare from last night exhausted him into sleeping longer?  
  
She remembered awakening in the middle of the night now, hearing his voice cry out for his dead fellow warrior. A mere child forced to die so gruesomely. How badly did the other deaths haunt his thoughts and dreams? He had held Mitsukake as the healer died in his arms, had been witness to Nuriko's last breathing moments, and outlived all but one of the other seishi. Never before had the reality of those events felt so acute to Marissa. How could they not after hearing the way he'd cried out in his sleep?  
  
Clutching her clothes against her chest she scooted back on the bed, avoiding the urge to gaze over to the man who slept without a shirt and a blanket pulled up only to his sternum. Already it felt as though the expanse of pale skin she'd seen was burned into her retinas. She'd never noticed before how light his hair could look in the low light, shaved so close to his head it very nearly bordered on being blonde. The warrior was fit like a biker, lean shoulders and biceps that were easily defined by the angles of one arm behind his head and the other laying across his stomach. She was absolutely sure that the sculptors of the ancient Greeks would've loved to have gotten their hands on this man's toned body to stand as a model.  
  
Marissa felt a bit foolishly like she was in gym class all over again as she slithered into her shorts under the bedcovers. He could wake up at any moment and see her changing. The thought excited and terrified at the same time and made her quicken her pace. Putting her arms back through the sleeves of her borrowed shirt she tugged the fabric down over her breasts, thankful for having worn such a comfortable bra on the day of her journey to this world. She couldn't imagine how women in this period survived without such a helpful piece of clothing.  
  
With her shorts buttoned and zipped she drew back the blanket and slid to the edge of the bed, her gaze getting an eyeful of the slumbering seishi. He hadn't moved and his breathing was still deep and shallow, it would be cruel to wake him when he seemed to be enjoying his rest so peacefully. Besides, Chichiri waking up meant they would be that much closer to leaving for Mt. Taikyoku. Feet touching the floor, Marissa bent over and retrieved her discarded sneakers from under the bed.  
  
Somehow she managed to hop quietly across the floor without tripping over Chichiri's bedroll and made it to the wall. Inch by inch she pried open the notoriously squeaky door until there was a space just large enough for her to slip through, a sigh of relief slipping past her lips for the lack of noise from the hinges. Once in the next room she hopped to the bench and set down her sneakers. The table was completely devoid of all traces of their dinner the night before and the fireplace was cold and swept clean of ash. She had to give Chichiri credit, he was a very adept housekeeper.  
  
She spied the empty bucket near the door, frowned, and then sat down to put on her shoes. When they were laced tight she slid to the end of the bench and bounced the last few steps to the front door, grabbing the bucket beside it as she pulled it slowly open. Outside the air was scented with the chilly freshness of early morning and a thin fog bank shrouded the sky overhead. Around her the ground sparkled with dew, lit by the weak rays of yellow light that were diffused across the gray sky, making it almost impossible to tell the direction of the rising sun. With her right hand on the wall of the house she hopped her way to the full barrel Chichiri had filled with water from the river the day before. She pulled back the lid and stopped to stare down at the hazy reflection that looked back up at her. It was hard to see much of anything in the low light except the frazzled appearance of her hair and two points of light where her eyes were. With a sigh she dipped the bucket into the water and drew it out when it was half full.  
  
Back inside the house she spent several minutes fetching a shallow basin, clean bandages, her bamboo tooth brush, and a bundle of soaproot from the house's supplies. Her knee and left foot were starting to ache fiercely and it was a welcomed relief when she sat down at the table, the bucket of water beside her on the bench. Her hand absently rubbed the sore joint as she picked up the bamboo brush and dipped the tip into the bucket of cold water, taking a minute to scrub away the plaque that had accumulated on her teeth overnight. When she finished she combed her fingers through the shoulder-length tangles of her hair and twisted it up into a tight bun, poking the rod of bamboo through it to hold it in place. About half of the water in the bucket went into the basin, which was then splashed liberally on her face and over her forearms. She crushed a few short strands of the fibrous root into the water and worked up a lather between her hands, the unusual smell of the soaproot making her hesitate before applying it across the length of her arms to her elbows. She rinsed the soap off in the basin and then crushed a few more strands in the water, working it briskly between her palms before placing the concoction on her cheeks and giving her face a generous scrubbing.  
  
She was rinsing away the sticky soap when a noise in the next room caught her attention, her hands cupped and poised above the water. When no other sound was forthcoming she plunged her hands into the basin, assuming that it had only been Chichiri moving about in his sleep. She finished rinsing and was using the hem of her long shirt to dry her face when the recognizable sound of the inner door opening creaked into the room. Blinking through the water on her eyelashes she lifted her head to see Chichiri standing dressed in the doorway, his shirt a bit rumpled on his frame and half of his bangs sticking to the right side of his mask-free face. He yawned and seemed to notice Marissa sitting on the opposite side of the table.  
  
"Ohayou no da," he muttered, stepping into the room.  
  
"Good morning," she replied, her answer muffled by the shirt over half of her face.  
  
He walked to the stone fireplace and tossed in a few logs from the pile beside it, one of them barely missing the empty kettle held inside the hearth. Without so much as a blink of his eye the logs combusted into flames, making Marissa jump at their sudden appearance.  
  
She wiped the last drops of water from her face, listening to Chichiri move about the room mechanically. She'd never seen him in such a tired daze before. Perhaps he always woke up like this and she'd simply never been privy to it before. That or the after affects of his nightmare had left him more exhausted than she'd previously thought. She couldn't bring herself to ask such a personal question out loud.  
  
Chichiri was standing inside of the small closet when items began popping out of thin air onto the table, startling Marissa back a few inches on her seat. Two bamboo containers, a bag of rice, a paper wrapped package, and dried vegetables began piling in the center of the wood surface as if they'd been casually dropped there. Conscious of the basin still in front of her chest, she picked it up just as a flat wooden spoon clattered to the table where it had been resting.  
  
Marissa pursed her lips and set down the basin on her left side. She turned to straddle the bench and used both hands to lift her wounded leg so it lay lengthwise in the remaining space next to the soapy water. She had just finished unwrapping the bands on her leg when Chichiri came out of the closet and walked silently around her to the other side of the table. She was too preoccupied with cleaning the stitches to take notice of what the monk was preparing for their morning breakfast, but rice and vegetables seemed to be a safe guess. She rinsed away the last remnants of whatever dried herbs had been plastered to her skin and dried the area with a clean area of her shirt. Picking up the roll of gauze she tore off a few feet with the edge of her teeth and began rewrapping her leg.  
  
The morning continued in that silent manner even when Chichiri placed a bowl of rice covered with spiced vegetables and pieces of salted pork in front of Marissa. She could only pick at the food with a waning appetite, her thoughts once more on their impending trip to see the overlord of the world. Chichiri, gratefully, did not prod her to eat more and completed his meal in a quiet, timely fashion. When he finished she took it as her cue to push away her bowl to join his as they were gathered to be washed. Recalling at the last moment that her toothbrush was still in her hair, she kept one of the hashi and rinsed it off before replacing the bamboo rod with her chopstick. She was really going to have to look into another way to keep her hair up.  
  
Chichiri puttered around her for another quarter hour, cleaning their dishes and tossing out the used water. He disappeared into the bedroom afterwards, leaving Marissa in the main room to sink deeper into her gloomy thoughts. At this point she wasn't too sure what she was more worried about, that Taiitsukun would tell her she had some sort of grand purpose for being in the world, or would tell her it was all a mistake and send her back to her old life. Neither option sounded very enjoyable. She didn't want to remain here as a priestess or someone with any kind of divine purpose. That would be placing people's lives in her hands, possibly even Chichiri's life, and fictional characters or not, she didn't want to see anyone wind up dead. Even if something like that were the case, she had no way of knowing what her presence here was doing to the timeline of the series. Was the future already predetermined and she would be off doing her mission or already done with it when Miaka and Taka returned to the world? Or by appearing here had she already thrown things off so badly that nothing was going to take place the way she'd seen it? If Chichiri died because of her, how would he help the seishi and defeat Hikou?  
  
Or there was the other possibility. Taiitsukun could take one look at her and start laughing, then apologize for picking such an insignificant girl and promptly send her back to her world. Wouldn't that be the joke of her life? She had been walking aimlessly for so long that she wasn't sure where she belonged anymore. Nothing about her life had felt right for many years; it was as though she was being led through the motions by her family and society without any conscious thought of her destination or purpose for being alive. She went to school because she was told she had to. She made good grades because it made her parents happy and she couldn't bear seeing anyone angry with her. She had a few friends because she was a good listener and never seemed to have any weighty problems to pour on them in return. They sometimes teased her about having a picture of a cartoon character on her wall, but mostly they left her alone to her schoolwork and her inner thoughts. Marissa the smart one, the dependable one, if you had a question or any problems, come to her because she always has a good answer.  
  
Was someone or something out there laughing at her right now for her twisted fate? She had only cared for one person in her life the way a woman comes to care for a man. She had struggled to understand his personality, spending hours, days of her life trying to discover what made him tick. His smile never failed to make her heart flutter and his humor had always made her laugh. He was strong, silent, dependable, and the kind of man who would let her pour out her heart for hours and never get up to leave. He was handsome and tender, with an eye that could peel her apart with a look, and so much sorrow and confusion in his past that she wished there were more words in the English language to say how badly she wanted to help him come to terms with that. Seeing him battle against his best friend had ripped her heart to shreds because of the pure cruelty in that scenario, that Fate would force him to kill Hikou all over again just to gain an understanding into the events of his past. This man touched her heart in a way that no other person had, real or fictional, and she had been okay with loving him from afar. It wasn't a love of passion or romance (because how could one love a character romantically?) but a love of understanding and acceptance.  
  
But instead of being allowed to stay in her old life where she could safely appreciate him from afar, she'd suddenly been tossed into the book and forced to come face to face with the man of her dreams. It was horrible. She had never in all her dreams wanted to meet him face to face like this. What was she expected to say? 'Hi, I love you and I understand you. Thanks for taking care of me.' How laughable was that. What could a person like Chichiri ever want in a person like her? Knowing a man's past and his deepest secrets did not automatically grant you access to their heart. She knew that fact and knew that having Chichiri in the flesh was more like torture than bliss. Every moment spent with him only destroyed another one of her fantasies, buried the secret dreams of being loved and cared for in return. Add to the situation that his physical body was extremely attractive and had already invoked an arousal in her she hadn't expected or wanted to become aware of had only made the hurt worse. Loving his soul was one thing, lusting after his touch and his body was another matter entirely, because rolled together it all equaled the only person she wanted most in life but could never have.  
  
"It's time to go no da."  
  
Marissa jerked her head up, unaware that Chichiri had come back into the room. The urge to giggle welled up inside of her at the image he presented. His bangs were combed and fluffy, mask upon his face, prayer beads straight on his chest, shirt pinned neatly against his shoulder, kesa folded over his right arm, and shakujo held in his left hand. _I wonder if you know how beautiful you are?_ she wondered bemusedly and a bit sadly.  
  
With great reluctance she stood up and hopped her way around the table. Chichiri met her at the door and held it open for her like the gentleman he was, moving through the opening behind her as she stood swaying on the stone path in front of the house. Taking a polite hold of her arm he led her to the narrow dirt road in front of the house. There he shook out his kesa and spread it on the ground, bubble pattern facing up. He moved to stand in the middle and held out his free hand to Marissa, which she took gingerly, feeling a current of electricity zip up her arm even from the brief touch.  
  
"Is it alright if I sit down when you do it?" she asked, rubbing her arms against the cool morning air.  
  
"I was going to recommend it no da."  
  
Marissa nodded and lowered herself to the ground, legs straight out in front of her once she was seated. The goosebumps rising on her flesh made her regret destroying her only pair of pants. _But then again, if this goes like I imagine it will, I'll be back in my world in time for dinner.  
  
_The staff struck the center of the kesa next to her right shoulder and a pool of golden light began spreading from the tip. It passed beneath her to the edges of the cloak, and only when the entire surface was covered did she feel herself begin to sink. Though she had been expecting it, the sensation was still a shock and instinct forced her to shut her eyes and cross her arms protectively over her chest. She could still see the glow behind her eyelids, as if it were being absorbed through every pore of her body, making her become weightless. It moved up her body like the cool touch of liquid slowly enveloping her legs, stomach, chest, all the way up to her neck. In the back of her mind something was itching to break free to the surface, a strong sense of deja vu that told her quite strongly she had been in this moment before. With a startled gasp she recalled the feeling of the shimmering silver light as it had sucked in her body, and a scream jumped from her throat as the light swept over her head.  
  
= = = = = = =  
  
"Mari-chan."  
  
_Ohh... my head. Very spinny.  
  
_"Mari-chan, open your eyes no da."  
  
Marissa blinked a few times, her feeling of nausea slowly coming to a halt. The world around her resolved itself into a beautiful blend of colors and glints of gold, sunlight alighting on towering pillars and polished marble steps which began to rise several feet away from her. Silk tapestries hanging between the columns in a range of pastels, blues, pinks, greens, yellow, and purple, fluttered in the soft breeze like the way ripples traversed across the surface of a lake. The columns were carved entirely out of a creamy, pale jade, which supported a bright red, pagoda style roof line with gold roof tiles that ran along each of the four ridges up to the second story.  
  
Marissa looked away from the massive structure and saw the hand being held out to her. She took it gratefully and was helped to her feet, giving her another expansive view of the grounds around Taiitsukun's temple. Lush green grass covered the plateau, dotted with trees and wildflowers in an array of unimaginable colors. Misty waterfalls cascaded off distant cliffs and poured into two valleys which ran on either side of the mountain top. Not surprisingly, to add to the magical panorama, dozens of sparkling pink spheres floated through the air both near and far away.  
  
"It's beautiful," she breathed.  
  
Chichiri released her hand and transferred his hold to her back just beneath her shoulder blades. His gentle nudge sent Marissa limping forward with his hand and side supporting her gait. It was an arduous journey up the marble steps that took several minutes, so much so that Marissa began to wonder resentfully why he hadn't just deposited them inside the temple. When they finally stepped inside the structure her left leg ached with strained muscle and she found herself leaning heavily against Chichiri's side. He guided her across the highly reflective marble floor until they entered a large antechamber, where tall rectangular windows scattered the sunlight into shafts of rainbows which painted the floor like an artist's palette.  
  
When they came to the middle of the floor Chichiri stopped her and stepped away, looking towards the corners of the room which were shrouded in shadow. "Nyan nyan no da?" he called out.  
  
Within a few seconds there was a gentle popping sound and a small girl with light blue hair and wide eyes appeared before the pair. "Chichiri-san!" she exclaimed happily. "Hisashiburi!"  
  
"Hisashiburi Nyan nyan no da," he answered with a wide smile, placing a hand on the child's head.  
  
"Naze koko ni imasu ka?" she asked, rocking happily on her slippered feet.  
  
Chichiri patted her crown and replied in Japanese, "I need to see Taiitsukun no da. Can you find her for me no da?"  
  
"Hai!" Nyan nyan crowed happily and disappeared with another pop, leaving Mari and Chichiri alone in the chamber.  
  
"Where is she going?" Marissa asked quietly, lest her voice echo too loudly in the massive room.  
  
"I asked her to find Taiitsukun no da."  
  
"Oh." Standing on one leg with the other barely touching the ground was threatening to undo her balance, and without a chair in sight Marissa figured she was better off sitting on the floor than falling face down on it in another minute. Only a few seconds after her bottom reached the ground a small figure ran out from the right corner of the room, rattails in her buns flying behind her.  
  
"She's coming, she's coming! Baba yelled at Nyan nyan and chased her away, hidoi!"  
  
"Arigatou, Nyan nyan no da."  
  
The magical girl spun about on the balls of her feet, unnaturally pleased with the praise as she looked up adoringly at Chichiri. Marissa watched the foreign exchange from her place on the floor, observing absently that the Nyan had yet to notice her presence. The child seemed to only have eyes for the seishi, though in truth she couldn't blame the girl for her infatuation. She suspected Chichiri preferred to remain politely oblivious to the spell he was able to cast on any woman who had a pair of eyes.  
  
_Men,_ she sighed inwardly.  
  
"Ohisashiburi desu Chichiri," a dry voice said from the front of the room.  
  
Marissa's head jerked to the side, catching her first look at the deity in the flesh. A large golden throne had appeared a few meters in front of them, lavished with decorative carvings, hanging jewels, and velvet padded armrests. On the seat of the oversized chair sat a small woman who's face bore the mark of centuries of vigilance and an untold weight on her shoulders. The bags under eyes were severe and the wrinkled lines on her forehead resembled the striations seen on limestone walls, a roadmap covering thousands of years compressed into one place. She wore a complicated robe of many colored fabrics and many layers, with trailing sleeves that hid her hands from view and draped over the sides of her throne. Her gray hair was piled up into an ornate headdress encrusted with precious stones that sparkled alluring in the rainbows of light which fell upon her. Marissa was positively awed.  
  
Chichiri came forward a few steps until he stood before Taiitsukun's throne and bowed respectfully at the waist. "Taiitsukun-sama, hisashiburi. Genki deshita no da?"  
  
"Maa, watashi mo totemo isogashii desu. Naze koko ni wa imasu ka?" The deity was still speaking to Chichiri but her gaze had finally slid over to acknowledge the girl sitting on the cold floor. It was brief and dismissive, however, for she immediately looked back to Chichiri and awaited his answer.  
  
"I have brought you a girl from another world no da."  
  
"Sou ka?" Taiitsukun folded her robed arms and looked unconvinced. Suddenly her hard stare was back on Marissa, as if seeking to pierce through the girl's heart and discover the secrets of her soul. "Well girl, are you really from another world?"  
  
Marissa could only look back in helpless amazement as the unintelligible words poured from Taiitsukun's mouth. When she failed to respond, Taiitsukun's eyes narrowed and switched back to Chichiri. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
"Taiitsukun-sama, she does not speak out language no da."  
  
The deity snorted, loud and derisive. "Are you picking up refugees from other countries now Chichiri? She is not from another world, it is impossible. I will send her back and the matter will be settled."  
  
For the first time since their arrival Chichiri began to look uncomfortable. "Demo, she says she is from a world beyond Miaka's world no da."  
  
Taiitsukun leaned forward on her throne, the tiny jewels hanging on her headpiece swinging with the motion. "Nanja? If she does not speak our language then how do you know this?"  
  
"I have learned her language. She has told me many things she knows about our world no da."  
  
"Nattoku ikanaino desuga," Taiitsukun replied sternly, a frown deepening on her aged face. "What you say is impossible, the peasant girl has deceived you. Take her back to where you found her."  
  
"Onegai shimasu Taiitsukun-sama. Please hear her story no da." Though the entreaty was spoken with the greatest respect, there was a hard expression upon his masked face. It seemed apparant that he was refusing to take no for an answer.  
  
Taiitsukun remained silent after Chichiri's plea, her face once again turning towards the girl who was still staring on with wide eyes at the conversation taking place. Marissa swallowed heavily under that gaze, unnerved by the look of pure mistrust she saw there. Why did things seem to be going so badly? Was she really one huge mistake afterall?  
  
"I'm really sorry," she apologized meekly, willing herself not to choke up with tears. "Tell her I'm really sorry Chichiri. I don't know what I did but I didn't mean to, honestly!"  
  
"It's okay no da," he reassured her quietly, his left hand waving her into silence.  
  
Watching this exchange in a foreign language, some of the animosity in Taiitsukun's face melted away to resigned curiosity. "You will speak to her for me Chichiri. She shall answer my questions or I will banish her back to whatever tiny village she came from."  
  
"Mari-chan," Chichiri said, turning to the girl who sat alone on the cold floor. "I am going to speak for Taiitsukun. She has questions for you no da."  
  
Marissa nodded, the hands resting atop her legs moving to clutch the hem of her shirt until her knuckles were white from the strain.  
  
"If you are truly from another world, how did you enter our world?"  
  
"I - I'm not really sure."  
  
If possible, the deity's glare deepened. "Then what is your purpose for being here?"  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"Were you sent by a god?"  
  
"I don't... think so."  
  
"What god do you serve?"  
  
"None..."  
  
"Why did you contact Chichiri?"  
  
"I didn't, he rescued me."  
  
Taiitsukun scoffed. "How convenient for him. What is your true purpose?"  
  
"I don't have one."  
  
"What country are you from? What is the name of your village?"  
  
"You wouldn't- those don't matter!"  
  
"Who are you really, girl? Did you think to lure one of the seishi with your story and gain an audience with me? Tell me the tru-"  
  
"Chichiri!" Marissa interrupted shrilly, nearly on the verge of tears, and looked up at the seishi who had been translating the entire conversation. "Please just let me tell the story. I promise I'll go away after that, I just want answers."  
  
"Please," she repeated, this time turning to look at Taiitsukun.  
  
Chichiri translated her request to the deity, who miraculously remained silent afterwards. Marissa took that as her cue and plowed on, relating everything she could recall about her mysterious journey to the world, the strange silver light and falling from the sky into a pond in the middle of a forest. She willed herself not to tremble as she recounted blacking out and waking up in a house with Chichiri, her body bruised and scratched and her leg mauled. She began speaking about how their story existed in her world, revealing more detail than she ever had to Chichiri, speaking about eighteen volumes filled with hundreds of images that told the tale of two mikos, Miaka and Yui, and the battles between their seishi that had ended less than a year ago. She couldn't bring herself to speak of the anime however, nor reveal her knowledge of events pertaining to the future, as she was uncertain of how much it would ruin her story's credibility in Taiitsukun's eyes if she told that much all at once.  
  
"I don't know why I'm here or if I'll ever get back home. Please, I need your help." Marissa could think of nothing else to say to convince the old woman, and bowed her head in supplication, awaiting her answer.  
  
The great hall was silent for several long minutes, the only sound being Marissa's shaky breathing as she struggled to bring her scattered emotions back under control. She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve and refused to lift her gaze to Taiitsukun or Chichiri, her insides boiling with surprise and anger. She hadn't dreamed it would be like this once they met the deity. She was supposed to have all of the answers, apologize and tell Marissa that it was all a big misunderstanding and send her off with a tender pat on the cheek. Not like this, not this hostility and suspicion, as if Marissa had crawled out from underneath a rock and was wasting her time by tugging on Taiitsukun's silk skirts. Being handed a divine mission and all its perils would have been better than this harsh treatment and the absolute lack of defense on Chichiri's part. He had stood by and relayed every cutting question without even batting an eye when he knew already the answer to each and every one of them. Why hadn't he defended her? Marissa felt very cold and alone on the smooth marble floor.  
  
Taiitsukun's voice broke the quiet, her words ending before Chichiri picked up the translation and relayed it, almost apologetically, to Marissa. "I cannot believe what you've told me. What proof do you have to offer to validate yourself?"  
  
Marissa seethed inwardly, her fingers unconsciously tightening into fists. _After all that, you still want proof? Shall I rip off my clothes and show you the bruises and the cuts given to me by my attacker? Or would you still consider that not enough? I could rattle off Einstein's theory of relativity and it wouldn't make a difference to you, you horrid old hag.  
  
_Biting her lower lip, Marissa grappled to think of something, anything, through the haze of her anger that would serve to verify her story. Was there anything she possibly knew that no one else did? Something that only Taiitsukun would know as the truth?  
  
"I know," she said quietly, in wonderment, unable to believe her own insight. Lifting her head she hardened her jaw and stared directly into Taiitsukun's eyes. "I know the name of the false god. I know who he is."  
  
A part of Marissa jumped with joy when she saw the way Taiitsukun flinched back, her hands moving to grip the arms of her throne. She seemed to appraise Marissa for a long moment, before she gave an imperceptible nod of her head. "Speak what you know, but be aware that I will know if you speak falsely."  
  
"Tenkou," Marissa began softly, suddenly feeling wary the power of his name might have in such a magical place. "Many hundred years ago he was the son of an Emperor of Tou. His father gave him a book that had been given to him by a group of radical monks who believed that they had discovered the key to immortality. Tenkou exploited the magic of the book and became consumed by his greed to use its power and was executed for practicing dark magic. But his soul became entwined with the book and it was buried with him in his tomb. The four gods used their powers to seal the scroll and his spirit for eternity. Until... until the Genbu no Miko's father found the scroll, translated it into a book, and broke the seal on Tenkou's imprisonment."  
  
Marissa shivered and turned her face away to look out of one of the tall windows, feeling the combined stares of Chichiri and Taiitsukun boring into the side of her head.  
  
"Do you know anything else?" By Chichiri's tone in the translation she could tell that he was as curious as Taiitsukun to hear the answer to that question.  
  
"No," she replied weakly, not sure why she was bothering to lie to a god.  
  
"Musume, kowarete haikenai." Taiitsukun's voice had surprisingly gone gentle. The genuine concern Marissa heard in that reassuring statement managed to soothe the edges of her fraying nerves immeasurably.  
  
"Do not be afraid," Chichiri translated somberly.  
  
Marissa swallowed and took a deep breath. "The books that tell of your world don't end with the battle between the Mikos in their world. It picks up again two years later. I know about things that haven't happened yet."  
  
"Forgive me for my doubt before, but you hold a dangerous amount of information if what you say is true. Are you sure you do not know why you were brought here?"  
  
Marissa shook her head sadly, wishing more than anything that she did have the answer to such an easy question. "Can you send me back?" she asked, fearing she knew the answer already.  
  
Taiitsukun had begun to look her ancient age by the weary turn of her mouth and the lack of authoritative sparkle in her eyes. "You are from a world I was not even aware of existing. The only one who has the power to return you is the one who brought you here. Until we can discover that, you cannot leave."  
  
Marissa bowed her head in understanding, unable to feel completely sad or happy with that confirmation of her own suspicion. She was stuck here without a grand purpose but had no way of going home either. It was the outcome she had been both hoping and dreading, but for now she could only feel mild relief. So many questions were still unanswered.  
  
Taiitsukun turned her attention back to Chichiri, her lips pressed together in concern. "She does not look it Chichiri, but that girl is dangerous to this world. If the knowledge she possesses were to fall into evil hands, it could give them the advantage they need and bring about the end of our existence. The evil false god does not care for this world, he wishes to open a gateway into Miaka's world and rule there. But if he learns that there is yet another world, beyond that of the Miko's, he will surely be driven by his greed to conquer that world as well.  
  
"I am charging you with protecting this girl. We must make sure at all costs that she is not discovered by the enemy. Teach her how to defend herself, give her some proper clothes and a weapon to use. If she can disappear into our world without notice then perhaps we will have thwarted the evil forces."  
  
Chichiri nodded gravely in understanding. "Wakaruyo no da."  
  
Before Chichiri turned to go, Taiitsukun spoke once more, her voice more serious than it had ever been heard thus far. "Chichiri. You are to protect this girl, but remember that we know nothing of her reasons for being here. Until we do, if ever, she is no more than a vessel for the knowledge she has. If she is taken by the enemy, I will not hesitate to consider ending her life to prevent that information from falling into the wrong hands. You would be wise to consider the same. Now go."  
  
Chichiri's face betrayed nothing of that foreboding conversation as he turned on his heel and walked back to Marissa's side. Her eyes were red but devoid of tears, a resigned expression on her face that quickly melted at his approach. As he was holding out his hand a small figure suddenly pushed her way between them, her childlike voice rising with worry.  
  
"Taihen! Nyan nyan naosu!"  
  
Marissa blinked back at the deep blue eyes which were hovering a few inches in front of her face. "What did she say Chichiri?"  
  
"She wants to heal you no da."  
  
"Hai, onegai," she replied immediately to the small, divine creature.  
  
"Naosu naosu!" The Nyan nyan chanted as she cupped her hands over the bandage on Marissa's leg. A warm pink light evolved into a sphere between the girl's hands that gently merged with her thigh, a tingly warmth spreading through the limb and infusing Marissa with a renewed sense of life and energy.  
  
When Nyan nyan pulled back her hands Marissa leaned forward and grabbed her impulsively in a hug. "Thank you! Oh, arigatou!"  
  
The Nyan nyan giggled and spun happily in a circle before disappearing again with a loud pop, the hall echoing in finality with her departure. Marissa jiggled her leg experimentally, then proceeded to stand up on her own, both legs completely stable beneath her. She grinned happily and reached for the bandage, quickly untying the strips to reveal her unblemished and restored leg underneath.  
  
"Come, lets go home no da," Chichiri urged gently, stepping aside to let Marissa precede him out of the temple.  
  
Marissa stepped forward and looked back towards the head of the room, but Taiitsukun and the throne had disappeared as mysteriously as they had arrived. She offered a little smile to the empty air and then kept walking towards the exit, her feet practically itching with the urge to skip her way to the marble steps. When they reached the jade pillars she allowed herself to bounce jubilantly down the staircase, landing with both feet on the grass at the bottom.  
  
Chichiri spread out his kesa once more and waited for Marissa to join him on the cloak. Before doing so she turned about fully, drinking in the beautiful surroundings one last time, unsure as to whether this would be the last time she'd see the fabled mountain top again in this world. Stepping solemnly onto the cloak she watched the distant misty waterfalls fall through their own curving rainbows, and this time when the light enveloped her body and drew her under its power, she had a smile on her face.  
  
A/N: This chapter was brought to you by the letter N and the number 6. Stay tuned for chapter 19, same Chichiri time, same Chichiri channel. 


	8. Title Pending

8/8/04 -  
  
Chapter 7 is currently being rewritten. Please check back in two weeks, or visit my website for daily updates on chapter progress.  
  
The Authoress  
  
www . thecompendium . org / stories / hnf / 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

Golden rays of sunlight fell in long strips across the floor of the small room, growing longer with each passing minute as a new day dawned upon the world of the four gods. Their finger-like ends alighted on a slumbering figure that lay upon a straw mat on the floor, caressing a smooth face and tanned skin, a blanket thrown over the rest of the body and clutched loosely to its chest. Bare feet poked out the end of the cover, pale and calloused skin covered with a light layer of dirt from living in a dusty world, their wanderings having taken them over many lands and climates. The figure stirred as the sun's light stretched across his face, one strip of light banding across one closed eye closed in blissful slumber, the other shut in painful remembrance forever.

Chichiri brought a strong, weathered hand up to shield his eyes from the yellow light, rolling over onto his side to escape from the ball of fire that beckoned him to rise and awaken. His long bangs became crushed beneath his face, creating a slightly unpleasant tugging sensation at his temple. Not to mention that the strands were starting to tickle his nose with every inward breath he took. With a small groan Chichiri turned over and pushed himself off the mat, his loose shirt falling open to reveal a well muscled chest, hairless and tanned like the rest of his skin, despite the fact that it had seen the sun the least.

He leaned forward into a sitting position, the blanket falling to his waist as he drew up his green clothed legs, one hand reaching around to scratch his short hair and disentangle any knots that had worked their way into his unbounded long strip of hair during the night. With a loud yawn he stretched both arms over his head, feeling his muscles tense and release with the action, his body protesting against being forced to sleep on a thin straw mat every night for the last five weeks. His head swiveled to the side almost unconsciously, one eye searching for his ward that usually lay peacefully asleep on the bed. He blinked twice though, before letting out a slightly confused, "Da?"

The bed was made and completely empty, save for the single pillow that lay at the head of it, and looking as though it hadn't been slept on for quite some time. Marissa's shoes were gone from the foot of the bed as well, her nightshirt resting neatly folded on the chair beside it.

Chichiri rose from the mat, eyeing the bed once more as though to confirm that it really was empty, then walked over to the door connecting the bedroom to the eating area. He half expected to hear the sounds of breakfast being made, something Marissa seemed to delight in as a surprise for him. He opened the door, only to be met with an empty room. The coals in the cooking pit glowed a dull red from the previous night's meal, but since then they had not been touched.

Worry started to work its way into Chichiri's mind, despite trying as hard as he could to brush it away. Yes, this was uncharacteristic of Marissa to rise so early and leave without a word, but it was nothing to get worried over, was it? His eye glanced around the room, noting that everything was still in place, no sign of a hasty departure or struggle. Chichiri let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _She's got to be around here somewhere._

He walked over to the closed front door and opened it quickly, stepping outside into the chilly, mid morning air. He barely noticed that he was still wearing his sleeping clothes, his open white shirt and green pants being the only thing keeping the cool air at bay. Chichiri shivered lightly and stepped away from the house, his bare feet meeting the cold, dew covered ground. He glanced up and down the road that ran before the house, searching for any sign of his student or other life that might lead him to her.

When he saw nothing he turned to close the door quietly behind himself, then turned to the right to walk around the small structure they called home. He looked out once he reached the corner of it, eyeing the forest in the distance and the road that continued straight ahead, curving out of sight before it reached the nearby town they had visited together only a two weeks before. He stood still for a minute, listening to the sounds of the forest as it awoke to a new day, but could make out nothing that seemed unusual or had the possibility of leading him to her.

With something that sounded like a frustrated groan Chichiri turned away from the corner of the house and began walking back along the road. He could feel himself growing unnecessarily angry, knowing it was because he was starting to panic and the anger was helping to cover it up. He resisted the urge to call out for her. If something had happened he didn't want to alert who or whatever that might have taken her to his presence.

He rounded the other corner of the structure, his eye glancing over the large stretch of field that ran beside it. Another line of trees began in the distance, the dirt road cutting through the forest like a brown scar as it curved away to the north. His eye swept across the field that disappeared over the horizon, slowly making its way back to the area closer to the house. And then he stopped.

She was there, close enough to reach within a few steps. She had been there the whole time. Sitting atop a small hill that looked out over the small river which ran just beyond it, Tama-neko perched contentedly on her shoulder while she sat bent over something, her purplish hair glowing faintly orange in the new risen sun's light.

Chichiri's shoulders suddenly sagged as though being released from the burden of a heavy weight. His panic and anger quickly dissipated to be replaced by relief. She hadn't gone far, he would have heard her if anything happened, there was nothing to worry about. Being overprotective seemed to be one of his faults, even while he knew that worry and anger weren't going to get him anywhere.

After a moment though Chichiri began to contemplate the feelings that had overtaken him only minutes ago, minutes that had painfully dragged with each moment he'd searched. Why was that? Why had he let anger and worry cloud his mind so much when he should have been thinking clearly? He'd always been the calm and reliable one. Now was not the time to go off because of something small. True, she had never done such a thing before, but he knew her habits well enough by now, or at least he thought he did. She'd been hindered by her leg in the past and now that it was healed she had the freedom to journey wherever she pleased without having him by her side in case anything happened. And if something had happened there would have been other ways he could have known. By sensing the presence of someone else nearby, or she could have even alerted him through the telepathic link they shared.

His lips turned up in the barest of smiles as he recalled such an incident a few days ago. They'd been walking along the riverbank, heading downstream and into new territory for Marissa. She was enjoying her new found freedom without the burden of her injury and staff and was often ahead or behind Chichiri, exploring and discovering new things within or along the river every minute. Suddenly and out of nowhere, a loud voice had cut through Chichiri's thoughts when they reached a small pond leading off from the edge of the waterway. "Chichiri come look!!" He looked up and saw Marissa beckoning him to the edge of the still pool, realizing that she had both spoken aloud and in his mind. A small family of ducks had made a temporary home within the reeds by the edge of the pond and were currently examining the large, new creature that had stumbled upon their dwelling. Later he had questioned Marissa to see if she was aware of what she had done in her moment of excitement. She vaguely recalled reaching out to him, feeling that somehow a connection had been made but not sure what she had accomplished. If she could use telepathy while being moderately excited by a family of Mallards he was sure she'd alert him if anything more dire had happened.

"Chichiri! Chichiri!"

Chichiri looked up startled, not realizing that he had fallen into his own thoughts, and saw two wide pairs of eyes staring at him with looks of faint disbelief. Marissa turned to Tama-neko and they both gave small shrugs of incomprehension, then turned back to whatever task at hand they were occupied with.

Chichiri let out a small chuckle at their reaction and walked up behind the pair, joining Tama-neko in peering over Marissa's shoulder. She had a long pole set across her lap, which she was carefully shaping into a slender bow shape using her bare hands and ki to cut away small slivers of wood with each stroke she made across the length of it.

Chichiri let out a small noise of surprise and came around to sit on the other side of her, his eye closely watching her current project. "What are you making?" he asked after a moment of studying her creation but not understanding what it was.

She lifted the pole and set it upright between her legs. It was a little over four feet long and curved inwardly, each end coming to a dull point and thickening in the middle. "It's a bow," she stated.

Comprehension dawned on him. "Where's the string?" he asked.

"Hmm, I still need to get one, and make some arrows too. It's no good having a bow without arrows. Do you know how to make them, Chichiri?"

Chichiri shook his head, his long blue bangs waving slightly over his forehead. "We'll have to find some for you. Eh, Mari-chan, why did you leave so early? It was a bit... surprising to find you gone."

Marissa's eyes grew wide. "Oh I'm sorry! I didn't make you worry did I?"

Chichiri paused, then shook his head in the negative. "Iie, it was just surprising, that's all."

"Oh," Marissa replied, setting the bow across her lap again. "Well I've been meaning to make this for a few days and I was feeling restless so I decided to go out, see the sunrise, get to work you know. I am sorry if I made you worry. You didn't need to get up, I was gonna come right back in when I finished anyway."

Chichiri shook his head once more. "Daijobu, the sun woke me up anyway." Suddenly he rose, brushing off the bottom of his pants as he removed traces of the dewy grass he'd just sat on. Marissa looked up, slightly puzzled at his action. "I'll go in and start breakfast. You should come in too, it's wet out here and not as warm as it used to be in the mornings."

Marissa let out a short laugh. "I used my ki so much that I think I warmed up all the grass under me. It stopped feeling wet after the first few minutes."

Chichiri allowed himself a small smile, which immediately faded though as he turned to leave. "Very well then, but come in for breakfast," he ordered over his shoulder, walking towards the small structure they both called home.

He could feel the first tendrils of guilt seeping into his mind, quietly yet harshly reminding him of the vow he'd made 4 years before, a vow of penance and irrevocable blame. He'd worked hard to keep happiness and joy at bay, placing the smiling mask over his face to please those that didn't wish to see the scarred face of his guilt, the scar that he wouldn't allow to heal, both externally and internally. Marissa had become a ray of sunshine in his life, bringing back laughter and giving him small moments of peace. But he didn't deserve those. Peace of mind was not worthy for one so stained, so guilty of a crime that he couldn't even consider telling Marissa of, nor any of the other seishi about, his closest friends since...

With a shake of his head Chichiri opened the front door of their cabin, noticing with slight dismay that the fire had cooled and burnt out. He collected a few logs from beside the stone fireplace and placed them inside, then ignited a flame beneath the pile with a small burst of ki from his hand. He straightened a glanced around, taking in their supplies and what could be made for breakfast. Rice... some dried fish... Marissa had once mentioned having eggs for breakfast, an idea he had been willing to comply with only after her heated persuasion that he'd actually enjoy it. The memory was warm and comforting, that of one of the many nights they had stayed up talking beside the fire, strange things like what to eat for breakfast coming into the conversation.

"Stop it," Chichiri growled lightly to himself. Now or ever wasn't the time to reminisce on pleasant memories, no matter how innocent they seemed. He felt almost as though he was betraying their memory, enjoying life while they had none to live. He'd already sought to end his life once but he was somehow saved, another blow to his already shattered heart that wanted to die along with them. Becoming a monk was supposed to give him the solitude to contemplate life and death, to always carry the weight of their lives upon him, never any moment of rest from the guilt that tainted him.

But not now, now he had a student and young woman to look after that demanded his attention, no matter how reluctant he was to give it. Duty and honor to Taiitsukun forbid him to forget about her, but there was something else too... He never smiled as much as he did when he was around her, never found the small things in life so amusing, never found himself seeking another's companionship when thoughts wanting to be told crossed his mind. What was she doing to him? No, it was his fault for letting this happen. She was innocent, pure, unknown to the trials of life that he had witnessed and been through. She treated him with the kindness and compassion that would be shown to any other, but for him, he did not deserve such a thing. Of course he couldn't tell her that, she didn't deserve to bear the weight of his sorrow and guilt as well. He would just have to remain more in control of his own feelings, to not let the situations get to him, and to always remind himself why he had chosen this path. Duty to his god and to his mentor kept him alive, from joining his companions in the afterlife.

Chichiri set the pot of rice cooking over the fire, rice and fish once again on the menu for breakfast. His own discrepancy over breakfast became audible in a few seconds when Marissa stepped into the room.

"Rice and fish again?" She whined piteously, flopping down on a bench as Tama-neko hopped from her shoulder to the table top.

Resisting the smile that threatened to rise Chichiri headed for the bedroom, returning a moment later with his mask firmly in place, red sash around his waist, and shirt properly pinned to the side, then bent to check the fish which were now cooking over the fire.

He heard Marissa sigh quietly, though the cause of it eluded him. Once again he fought back the urge to turn around and question her, the need to comfort something he had never questioned or stopped before. But it was different now. It had been a little over a month, a month too long that he'd let himself enjoy life, enjoy intimate companionship.

It had been different with the seishi. They were dear friends to him, but there was never time to share inner thoughts, never the chance to lower their guard for a moment lest their enemies should attack them. Everyone had to be ready to fight and there was never any chance of forming the close bonds that could have been created if it was any other situation. And he had always made a point anyway of remaining the friendly yet mysterious one, that could be counted on in a pinch or to offer advice when it was needed. But compared to the rest he was just an observer, a protector, a guide. Everyone had their own problems at the time, a country to protect, love to find and save, past events to come to terms with, time to overcome new grief, and friends to win back. But not him. He was the eldest, the one they came to for advice and guidance. Only one person had ever inquired about his past, their ever genki Suzaku no Miko.

He recalled the day clearly, sitting beside the pond, his line lowered into the water but with the intention of fishing never his plan. Everyone had been uptight and trying to cope in their own way with the failure of the ceremony to call Suzaku. Nuriko and Tasuki releasing their anger on each other a short distance behind him, prompting an embarrassed "daaa," to escape his lips. And then she had appeared beside him, quiet, her thoughts turned inward, but seeking companionship nonetheless. He knew of the requirements that had to be met by the Miko and could easily guess what was disturbing her, that and many other things.

Then she'd asked about his mask, wishing to hide her own troubles behind a smiling face, and for the first time he had revealed something about his past to one of them. He felt that perhaps her knowing some of what he'd gone through would help her to see that her problems were not so great as to need a mask to hide behind, but rather that they could be worked out with time, unlike his... He hadn't meant to be selfish, only to guide her in the right direction by giving her something concrete to see and hear.

"Ano, Chichiri, doushita no?"

As though opening his eyes for the first time Chichiri saw the tray in his hand, two whole steaming fish sitting atop a matt of bamboo, then looked up from where he was standing at the head of the table to see Marissa staring at him with concern.

"Nandemonai no da," he replied cheerfully, hoping to dispel that look of worry from her face.

"Are you sure?" she prompted. "I called you twice in English and when you didn't respond I asked in Japanese. You looked like you were thinking hard about something. Want to talk about it?"

The look on her face was so sincere, so open, willing to hear anything his soul was willing to pour out. But he couldn't, not with anyone, and especially not with her. "I was just thinking of a conversation I had with Miaka once no da. Nothing important."

"Hmm?" Marissa turned her head away, one finger resting thoughtfully on her chin. "Now when did you have a conversation with her? If I had to guess I'd think... hmm, that was the only time you guys had a little peace..." by now her voice had trailed off into low undertones, her thoughts voicing themselves quietly. "That's gotta be it," she proclaimed after a few seconds, looking up at Chichiri as he set the tray onto the table. "That time by the fish pond, right? Right after you guys tried to call Suzaku and failed. I'm right aren't I?"

Chichiri froze, his hands resting palm down on the table top. Had she read his mind? No, he'd felt nothing of her presence. She seemed to be remembering, as though she herself had witnessed the event. Chichiri clenched his hands, strongly resisting the urge to question where her knowledge had come from. She was a complete enigma in that respect. He recalled that she had mentioned something about 18 books and their world being contained within them. Perhaps that's where from.

"Chichiri?"

"Eh, hai no da! You guessed right no da."

"Wai!" she cried, clapping her hands together. "But that wasn't a guess mind you," she continued, wagging a finger in his direction. "This girl's got a photographic memory, not to mention I've seen the series like... oh shit."

Chichiri looked up to see Marissa blushing furiously, her head bowed over the table.

"Nevermind," she whispered, avoiding his questioning stare.

Whatever had happened, she'd been about to reveal something to him and had only just managed to catch herself. They had both been getting careless, Chichiri realized. They were getting too comfortable, to familiar with each other, and things were slipping.

He turned back to check on the rice, hearing Marissa play with Tama-neko behind him, the slip-up already forgiven and forgotten.

Yes, they were both getting careless, and that would have to stop now. No matter what the consequences were, they'd both have to accept it sooner or later, he knew that for sure. They each had their secrets, kept for good reasons, and any revelation on either one's part could jeopardize things permanently between them. Put a smile on the outside, that's what they were both doing now. Burying down the words begging to be told, setting aside their feelings to make room for duty and destiny. They were more alike then he wanted to admit. But because they shared such a close bond it was all the more reason to push them farther apart. He had to, she would understand and do the same eventually. Teacher and student once again, friends on the outside, but sharing the same soul on the inside... yet neither could do anything about it.

~*~*~*~

Check out the rest of my writings and updates for this story at http://home.pacbell.net/gahran :) 


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

A lone figure stood on the open plain, reddish hair wavering slightly in the breeze, a long bow pulled taught and an arrow placed across it. For a few breathless seconds the figure remained perfectly still, aiming the arrow along her line of sight. Then with a quick exhalation the arrow was let go.

A loud "twang!" was heard, followed immediately after by a small yelp of pain, and then a second later by a low thud.

Marissa winced and looked to see where her arrow had landed. It had thankfully hit the target, though not exactly where she'd wanted it to go. Three white, concentric circles were drawn on a large tree trunk about 100 feet away from her, the arrow placed just outside the largest one.

She let out a loud sigh and looked down at the objects that had been causing her so much pain and frustration. Practicing with a bow and arrow was useless if her breasts kept getting in the way. Every few shots or so she'd managed not to hit the sensitive flesh, but then her aim had always been way off, sometimes not even hitting the target. She'd have to bind them somehow, save herself the pain and frustration this was causing. Archery had definitely been originally created as a male sport.

She set the bow down beside the small pile of arrows near her feet and headed for the cabin a short distance behind her. If she recalled right Chichiri had a supply of fabric strips or gauze somewhere in the house, though where exactly she wasn't sure. That'd be the best thing she could use without ripping up some of her own clothing, something she felt desperate enough to do at the moment.

Archery was one of her favorite sports, even if she had only picked up a bow maybe a dozen times in her life. But each time she'd practiced with it she'd felt an unusual bond with the weapon, almost as though it were a part of her. Every time her hands gripped the wooden bow and her fingers grasped the thin arrow she felt comfortable and at peace. The feeling was both strange and enjoyable at the same time, something she'd never experienced before in her life. So once her injury had healed she'd immediately decided what to do with the long staff Chichiri had given to her not so long ago. It had already helped her to walk again, now it would be made into something to protect herself and others with.

She opened the front door of the house, her eyes seeing nothing in the dimmer light as her pupils adjusted from the bright light outside. Slowly she made out everything in the room and stepped over the threshold, looking around for anything that might hold the supplies she was looking for. She bent over a low crate and was about to remove the lid when something else in the room caught her eye.

She hadn't noticed him before because he was sitting so quietly and motionless in the corner. Chichiri sat cross-legged beside the hearth, his hands clasped loosely in his lap and his masked face slack, holding an statement of deep thought.

Marissa felt a small pang of worry go through her. He'd been that way since she woke up this morning. How long he'd been there she wasn't sure, she'd heard no movement during the night or early morning so he must have been discreet about it. She'd gone about and made breakfast for them, trying to be as quiet as possible, and left him a small bowl of rice and soup on the table before stepping out to start practicing.

Her eyes moved to the tabletop and saw to her dismay that the food was still there, untouched and cold. She stood up and removed the wasted meal, all the while her eyes trained on the still unmoving monk. If he didn't eat he would surely lose strength and become weak, something she would never allow as long as she was there with him. Why was he doing this? And why now? In the past he'd never found the need to meditate so seriously, or neglect himself so strongly. After their trip to see Taiitsukun he'd become withdrawn, still performing his duties as an instructor to her, but taking an attitude as if that's all there was to it. When before they'd talked freely and about anything that came to mind, now their conversations were short, on topic, and that was it. He was no less responsive to her questions than he'd been before, but a distance had been put between them and Marissa was unsure how or why the gap had formed, and furthermore if there was anyway for her to breach it.

Somehow she couldn't help but feel that the blame was on her, that she had done something wrong that caused for such a separation between them. All too many times in her life she had lost a friend to one misunderstanding or another, words not spoken being the cause that eventually lead to a painful and sad separation. Her heart ached terribly to see him acting this way, and all the while she was sure the blame lay on her shoulders. What had she done, or perhaps not done? Try as hard as she might she couldn't recall anything that might lead her to some sensible conclusion. Perhaps the extended duration of her training was the cause of this. Maybe... maybe he didn't want to train her after all.

But he hadn't offered any protests when they'd gone to see Taiitsukun and the goddess had informed him that he was to continue training Marissa in preparation for the next year. In fact, he'd seemed almost as happy as she was about it, though she could have been mistaken, his facial expressions were always hard to read.

Like right now. Sitting there, impassive and completely oblivious to the outside world, while she stood by, feeling worry claw at her heart like nothing she'd ever felt before. _Chichiri no baka!_ she felt herself yelling on the inside, her eyes squinting slightly with anger and frustration. She knelt down before him, intently studying the man that had yet to acknowledge her presence there. She closed her eyes and concentrated, reaching out with a light, tentative touch towards his mind, gently probing and searching to make a connection with the consciousness that was tucked away, quietly musing and meditating somewhere within. Unexpectedly though she felt her gentle probe pushed softly yet sternly to the side, away and out of his mind. She opened her eyes to watch his head lift slightly, the masked face now staring straight at her.

"G... gomen," she apologized softly, feeling her confidence waver beneath the expressionless stare that looked back at her. She blinked and her eyes darted up to the table, reminding herself of why she'd sought to talk to him. "You... didn't eat your breakfast. I was wor-"

"Heki," came the abrupt reply, his voice strangely low for being the one behind the mask.

It was like she had just been punched in the stomach, a blow to both her heart and mind as she heard his distant and uncaring reply. Her breath seemed to catch painfully in her throat, all thoughts swept from her mind except for his cold voice, which continued to echo loudly through it. She blinked a few times, her vision coming back into focus, and saw the emotionless face of her friend once more.

"I see," she replied flatly, hiding her hurt feelings beneath a mask of composure. She pushed away and rose to her feet, then made to walk away before she stopped, recalling why she'd come inside in the first place. She turned back to the quiet monk, whose face was still pointed in her direction. "Do we have any long strips of fabric?" she asked noncommittally, her eyes everywhere but on him.

He gave a brief nod. "In the smallest crate." And that was it.

Marissa pushed down the other emotions that threatened to boil over as she approached the pile of wooden crates arranged against the far wall of the structure. She bent down and began searching through the stack for the one he had indicated. She paused for a moment though as she was setting one aside, her eyes glancing over by their own will to stare upon the man who had suddenly grown so cold towards her. She wrenched her eyes away, feeling them start to smart slightly with moisture. Getting upset would get her nowhere right now.

Finally she unearthed the smallest crate, pulling it out of the dark recess at the far back of the pile. She picked it up and set it on the table, still mindful not to make too much noise while around him. Afterall, she didn't need him getting any madder at her then he already was. She removed the lid and was met with a neat arrangement of medicines, dried herbs, small white packages, and long rolls of bandages. Pulling out a large roll of fabric she felt its weight appreciatively in her hand. It looked like it would be enough. After replacing the lid quietly she picked up the roll and headed for the bedroom, wanting the feeling of privacy despite the fact that Chichiri would probably be oblivious to everything around him right now.

She shut the door behind herself and latched it securely on the inside. Dropping the roll of white fabric on the bed she proceeded to strip herself of the heavy blue dress she was wearing. It was actually more like an overcoat with its weight and insulating characteristics, but was conveniently fashioned into a knee-length dress, allowing her to put leggings on beneath it whenever she desired. The long sleeves and high neck made it perfect for wearing in colder weather, not to mention that it was a lovely shade of royal blue, one of her favorite colors. This outfit had been the counterpart to her other purchase at the dress shop she and Chichiri had stopped at last time they were in town. He had suggested that she get something in preparation for the colder weather, and boy was he right.

Thoughts of their trip to town brought back memories of the one they'd taken more recently together, just yesterday to be exact. With a completed bow and no arrows to use Chichiri had suggested they take a quick trip to town to pick up her needed supplies. She'd agreed enthusiastically, wanting to start practicing with her new weapon as soon as possible. The trip to town was quick and uneventful, though silent was probably the better way to describe it now. At the time she hadn't really noticed, being so happy about why they were making the trip was enough to keep her occupied the whole way. They'd gone to see the local blacksmith, who had a complete set of quivers ready to sell to the Suzaku seishi for an excellent discount. Even so Marissa had been unwilling to let Chichiri spend the money on her, opting instead to only buy her half of the set. But he'd refused as usual, saying that a full set was always going to be better than a partial one (to which the blacksmith also heartily agreed). Then he'd said something that surprised her. How about she learn how to make her own arrows for the future? The idea of creating her own weapons was both exciting and scary, so with her heart fluttering nervously she agreed to be taught (for a small fee of course). The kind blacksmith had patiently sat with them for an hour and a half while Chichiri translated Marissa's questions and the smith's instructions between the two of them. Marissa had been so grateful to Chichiri at the time, without him there to help she wouldn't know now how to straighten a shaft of wood, test it for strength and durability, and attach arrowheads or feathers to it. After the end of the lesson and Marissa successfully creating her first arrow from supplies given to her by the smith they both departed the town, but not before Chichiri granted a blessing at the blacksmith's request upon him and his family, being the least he could do to repay the man's kindness to his student. On the way back Marissa proudly carried her newly strung bow and case of arrows, her mouth and thoughts both flowing a mile a minute in her exuberance. Now that she thought about the return trip it had been strangely quiet on the side of her sensei as well. She'd gone on talking on so much no wonder she hadn't noticed.

With a slight pang in her heart Marissa realized that indeed Chichiri's behavior had been the same all day yesterday as it was today, but she'd been to preoccupied to notice. Was that the reason he was acting this way now? Because she hadn't paid attention to whatever was bothering him before? The thought caused Marissa to mentally laugh nervously. Chichiri, acting like a little boy and sulking in the corner? Not likely. Something else was bothering him, something that had happened two days ago to be precise. But try as she might no explanation or idea came to her. She felt herself becoming frustrated. It was like the guy suddenly went and got PMS or something, shifting attitudes so quickly. Maybe it had to do with being a monk, periods of penance and silence... somehow Marissa couldn't imagine that being the explanation either. She'd studied the principles of Buddhism in school, not to mention countless hours of Fushigi Yuugi featuring scenes of her bishie monk, and never once had she seen him act this way. Except...

Marissa gulped nervously, feeling the temperature in the room drop against her exposed skin. During the OAVs he'd become that way for a short period of time, when his past had been exposed to his friends and he'd been too ashamed to talk or face them. Oh Kami-sama what did she say...? Marissa dropped heavily to sit on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed over her nakedness to cover her chilling body. Two days... two days ago, had anything happened? Had anything slipped? No, nothing had, she was sure of that. There was that one time in the morning when she'd caught herself before revealing too much about the story of the four gods in her world, but that was trivial. How many other times had she almost slipped and gotten a curious look from Chichiri?_ Heh, lots,_ she thought glumly. Shit, whatever it was she did she really wished she could take it back now.

The quickly cooling air in the room raised the flesh on Marissa's exposed skin, running goosebumps up and down her arms and causing her to shiver slightly. She rubbed the cooling skin on her upper arms with her hands, drawing heat from the friction it created. Reluctantly she pulled away after a minute, knowing that the quicker she finished the sooner she'd be back in her warm clothes. She stood up, wearing only a long pair of dust colored pants and sneakers, having traded her pair of shorts for something more comfortable during the chilling weather, her upper torso now completely bare. She'd realized shortly after she arrived there that wearing a bra was more an inconvenience than helpful and soon abandoned the article of clothing, not really minding since most of the tops she wore were baggy and non revealing. She'd always been a bit modest about her body, finding it neither impressive nor worth spending the time to dawdle over, despite the words of encouragement from her friends that seemed to agree she had assets worth showing off. Marissa blushed slightly at the memory and grabbed the roll off the bed, quickly finding the end of the strip and placing it just below her breasts, then wrapped it a few times around her torso to keep the end in place.

With each pass of the slowly shrinking roll of fabric Marissa's thoughts wandered back to the man she'd tried to remove from her mind for so long. It'd been over a month now, a month away from her family, a month away from her friends, a month from home... a month away from good music! Marissa smiled ruefully at the thought. When was the last time she'd heard some good alternative? Oh boy, some loud Korn, Orgy, Papa Roach, or Limp Bizkit sounded real good right now. What better way to release her anger than listening to some angry lyrics? _God what I wouldn't give to go back and get some..._ the nostalgic look disappeared from her face in the next moment though. Even if she did get back (however unlikely it was) and brought some of her cds here how would she listen to them? Batteries had finite lives and electricity was a far thing of the future. Marissa sighed, then giggled quietly when she realized how ridiculous a turn her thoughts had taken. Still... modern conveniences spoiled everyone, including her, and now for some reason she'd started to miss them. Why? Maybe because her permanence here had been confirmed and the person that had taken her mind off missing home up till now was a stupid, unresponsive mannequin in the corner.

With an angry rip Marissa tore the strip of fabric from the roll, having completed binding her breasts while she'd been thinking, and tucked the loose end into the flat strips layered across her chest. _Well, it seems to have definitely helped,_ Marissa mused as she glanced down at her significantly flattened chest. She bent down to pick up her discarded garment and slipped it over her head, noting with satisfaction that the change was hardly noticeable with her clothing back on. She gave her hair a pat to return all stray strands to their place, then picked up the small roll and headed out of the room, careful to make as little noise as possible. With practiced stealth after raiding so many cookie jars and the like over the years she returned the roll to the box and placed it back in the corner, glancing once towards to the meditating monk. Her brow furrowed itself in worry for a brief moment as she watched his prone figure, unmoving and silent in the darkness.

_Darkness?_ Marissa glanced around and noticed with unease that the house was indeed quite dark. Every window was closed and the fire from that morning had long since burned down to hot, glowing red coals. She rose from her crouched position and walked over to the hearth, noting with dismay how cold the house really was. Before she'd been warm from practicing in the sun and hadn't noticed how much the house had cooled down during the day without a fire inside to keep it warm.

Being as quiet as possible Marissa set two logs in the fireplace, stirring the coals to life and making sure that the sparks caught hold of their new source of fuel. He may refuse to eat but there was no way she'd let him freeze to death. What the hell was he trying to pull? Sitting on a cold floor in a cold room without having eaten all day and leaving her standing by to get more pissed and worried about him! With gritted teeth Marissa willed her emotions to calm themselves. He may shut her out and ignore her, but there was no way she'd let him shirk off life's necessities if she had anything to say about it.

With a last, satisfied glance at the fire she turned and crept towards the door, noticing at the last minute the small cat that sat quietly on a box near it. She made a silent beckoning motion and crouched down to the floor, to which Tama-neko complied and bounded up atop her shoulder, seeming to be as grateful to get out of the house as she was. They both exited the house and walked outside, basking in the warmth of the winter sun. The air was cool with a bit of a bite to it, but in the sunlight and beneath heavy clothing all that could easily be forgotten.

Marissa walked back over to where she'd left her pile of archery equipment, checked with a quick glance to make sure it was all there, then walked over to the large tree trunk where five arrows stood out straight from the target she'd drawn there. With a tug and a few grunts Marissa managed to remove the arrows from the tree bark, then looked down at the arrows in her hands, examining the tips for any sign of breakage or loosening like she had been instructed to do. Satisfied that none of them would break on her any time soon she turned to walk back and start practicing again, when she stopped.

_Five arrows?_ Marissa looked down again and counted. _Great._ If memory served her right she'd actually fired off seven in the direction of the tree. It seemed that two of them had decided to be adventurous and land somewhere else. She added the arrows in her hands to lay with the rest of the pile, then picked Tama-neko off her shoulder and set him next to her stash.

"Guard these," she commanded him with a smile and a wink, then with an affectionate scratch to his head she headed for the woods behind her shooting target.

Once the forest began the ground cover changed to a soft, mulchy and leaf covered floor, which felt comfortable and cool beneath Marissa's feet. But with the denser vegetation underfoot her arrows would be more difficult to find. With any luck she could hope that they'll be sticking straight up out of the ground and easy to see, as opposed to lying on or beneath the undergrowth where she could easily mistake it for another piece of dead wood, or even worse, that it managed to fly farther back into the forest and was now stuck in the trunk of another tree. Take it slowly and carefully, slowly and care-

_CRACK!_

Marissa winced and shut her eyes as she felt the long twig break beneath her foot. Please oh please oh please don't be...

"Shit," she muttered darkly as her eyes landed on the two halves of her arrow lying on the ground. She bent down to pick them up, noting with a little relief that the feathers and arrowtip were still intact, only the shaft had broken. Before moving again she scanned the area around herself, careful not to step forward and land on another one of her precious arrows. Seeing nothing in the area she stepped forward gingerly, her eyes darting from the ground to the surrounding trees for the last arrow. With each step farther into the wood Marissa felt her hope slipping little by little. She'd already broken one and with her luck she'd find the last one high up in a tree somewhere. She let out a quiet sigh and plodded on.

Several minutes later the other arrow had yet to be found. Marissa paused for a moment, setting her hands on her hips. There was no way she could have shot it so far into the woods. Her foot tapped itself impatiently as she scanned the surrounding trees and ground, annoyance replacing the worry she'd felt before. With one last look Marissa threw her hands up in a gesture of defeat and turned to head back the way she came. After a few steps she stopped though, noticing something that she'd failed to see before. There, almost perpendicular to her line of sight, was her arrow about four feet off the ground sticking out from a tree. She smiled as she felt her built up tension release. _There the whole time,_ she thought as she walked towards it. She carefully removed the head from the bark, only to find that it fell away easily, having been barely lodged in the trunk due to the lack of force it'd had when it hit the tree from being shot so far away.

Marissa walked back in the direction she had coming, heading for the lighter area of the forest where the sun managed to reach through the trees overhead, signaling where the woods eventually ended. She pushed through the last line of trees to see Tama-neko a short distance away, and doing his job it seemed. He was batting his small white paws defensively at a pair of black shoes that stood close to her pile of arrows.

Marissa's eyes traveled up to see that the shoes belonged to Chichiri, who's head was turning slowly right and left as though searching for something, or someone. She walked out past her makeshift target and silently approached the monk and cat.

Chichiri's head turned then and saw her and in a moment he was jogging across the open plain towards her. He stopped in front of her, blocking her path and ceasing her walking. "Where were you?" he asked sternly.

Marissa stared back up at him tiredly. She held up her two arrows for him to see, one in each hand. "I went to get these," she replied.

"In the woods?"

Marissa sighed. "Yes, in the woods, is there something wrong with that?" she asked as she moved to step around him, wanting nothing more to get back to her training and for him to leave her alone. She was abruptly stopped though when a hand grabbed her wrist.

"I don't want you going into the forest by yourself," Chichiri commanded, his grip on her wrist tightening to emphasize his seriousness.

Marissa turned her head back to look at him, her expression showing surprise. _Huh?_ The disbelief faded quickly to be replaced by fury. _He's lecturing me about going into the woods? Telling me... when he wouldn't even listen to me! He's been neglecting himself for days now and he's telling ME what not to do!?_

Marissa's face must have betrayed her anger for Chichiri's masked look suddenly changed to that of surprise. She tried to pull her wrist out of his grip, but when it didn't come the first time she began to tug a little harder. Her eyes locked with. "Hanase." The single word was low and cutting under her breath. It seemed to do the trick, for he released her the next moment, his face once more expressionless, the same old smile and look of composure plastered across it.

She turned and walked away from him, heading for her supply of weapons. Tama-neko mewed in greeting and Marissa forced a smile for him. Damn she was pissed now. She picked up her bow and placed an arrow across it, hoping to vent her anger the next best way to loud music she knew how - physical activity.

But h eyes opened wide when she saw that Chichiri still stood where she had left him, his head facing her, but his expression as blank as an empty sheet of paper. Coincidentally he stood slightly to the side of her line of sight, the center of the target just over his right shoulder. Marissa raised the bow and sighted across it, instigating the silent threat to fire it while he was still standing there. She waited for him to move, feeling the taught bow begin to shake slightly beneath her fingers. But he didn't. His face just stared back at her, betraying nothing, the exact same look he had given her when she'd expressed her concern over him in the house. Marissa felt herself starting to shake with anger. What the hell was he pulling!? _God help me I'm going to fire this arrow,_ she thought angrily._ Move it dammit!_ she yelled inwardly, but still he remained motionless, as though he was mocking her, challenging her to pull through on her threat.

Marissa's eyes narrowed and abruptly her shaking stopped as a flood of ki filled her fingertips. Eyes centered on the target her breathing stopped, her body standing perfectly motionless. With the ease of a natural born archer she released the arrow.

A stream of red followed behind the arrow as it sped away from her, her built up ki having latched onto it just before she fired. It flew past Chichiri at an amazing speed and slammed into the tree, bits of wood and dust scattering from the impact. Marissa lowered her bow, eyes locked on the target, her heart racing both with surprise over what she had just done and from the fact that she'd just performed something completely new and amazing. The dust cleared after a second and Marissa grinned.

The arrow was buried halfway into the tree, a small impact crater having been created by the tip of the arrow. But most importantly, it was planted in the exact center of the target.

~*~*~*~

Check out the rest of my writings and updates for this story at http://home.pacbell.net/gahran :) 


	11. Chapter 10

Author's notes: A special thanks go to Riina for the successful completion of this chapter. Without her I would have stayed ignorant of the dream that has been my inspiration. Thank you for putting my feet on the ground and pointing me in the right direction girl. Every chapter from here on in owes their conception to your helping words :)

Chapter 10:

Dark clouds rolled slowly over the mountains in the north, tall and billowy, reaching straight up into the heavens and spreading out across the mountain peaks. They would be almost beautiful if it weren't for the occasional yellow streak of lightening that flashed out from their depths, arcing across the sky in an awesome show of nature's fury. Even the ones that couldn't be seen were still eye-widening in their magnitude, flashing within the dark tendrils of the clouds, yellow and white patches coming to life and tracing endless paths through the gray monsters in the sky. But they were far away, probably wreaking their havoc upon a city beyond the high blue mountains. Still, their presence was unnerving, foretelling of the cold, harsh season that was only weeks away. It didn't snow in the southern regions of this world, just got bitterly cold, with rainstorms that tore leaves from branches and created winds that demolished homes not protected against the severe weather. Today though the weather was uncommonly warm, almost pleasant, it if weren't for the cool wind that blew through occasionally in short, biting gusts.

However Marissa wasn't thinking about the weather as she stood outside the house, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, ears focused acutely on the noises emanating from within the building. The sounds of Chichiri preparing to leave.

He'd decided that morning that today would be perfect to go shopping for needed supplies for the winter. He'd told Marissa in a clipped tone which offered no room for protests that she was to stay at the house and wait for him to return. If the trip was to be quick she'd have to stay behind, which came across as an clear insult to her. Whether he was referring to her being a distraction or just an enthusiastic shopper she wasn't sure, but at the moment she could less care either way.

Marissa had stepped outside as he began to prepare for his departure, her back leaning heavily against the wooden wall of the structure, the front door to her left. She wouldn't stop him or argue; in fact he was right. They needed supplies for the upcoming season and if he felt that her coming along would be a hindrance to him she wasn't one to protest. Nope, rather she just preferred to sulk quietly outside, taking solace in the pleasant weather that was sure to quickly become something of the past.

At a noise to her left Marissa looked over to watch Chichiri emerge from the house, dressed in all his formal attire, the kesa draped casually over his shoulder and kasa secured around his neck with a thin string as it rested against his straight back. With his staff gripped lightly in one hand he reached up with the other to give a final tug to his bubble-patterned cloak, his face curiously turned away to avoid Marissa's gaze. He stepped away from the structure but then paused as his feet reached the dirt road. Finally he turned to Marissa, their gazes locking.

Try as hard as she might Marissa couldn't stay mad at Chichiri under that gaze. Though his expression remained empty, it was nothing like the hard, emotionless looks he had been giving her before. Perhaps it was the way his head was cocked slightly to the side, the masked face expressing amusement more than anything. It seemed he was waiting for her to say something, but strangely her mouth had gone dry and she could only stare back, her eyes silently questioning him.

His smile widened slightly as he reached back to bring the kasa over his head. With a small nod and his face now shielded by the hat and his hand he turned to go, waving back once as his long strides took him away from the house.

She watched him go down the road, not moving from the wall until he had curved out of sight with the rest of the path, the forest enveloping him until he would emerge at the outskirts of the city perhaps two hours later. With a sigh she turned and walked into the house, smoothing down her homespun dress and pausing before the table momentarily, debating on what to do now. Exploring was out of the question, for even without Chichiri ordering her to stay in the house she would have decided that for herself. A foreign world stood outside the front door and she dreaded to face it alone. But then what else was there for her to do?

Her eyes fell upon the crates which stood stacked against the right wall and not for the first time she felt her curiosity spark at discovering what their contents were. Chichiri had never said the boxes were off limits, in fact neither one of them seemed to take much notice of them unless something unusual was needed and could only be found in their reserves. Marissa herself had only cracked into maybe two of them her entire stay. If they were going to need supplies for the winter, what better way to be prepared than to take an inventory of what they already had? Seemed perfectly logical and even helpful. If he wanted her to stay home, well then she was going to prove to him that she wasn't the type just to sit around and twiddle her thumbs waiting for her sensei to return.

With a self gratifying smirk Marissa walked over to the stack and bent to pick up the crate nearest to her. It wasn't extremely heavy, but enough to cause her to grunt slightly in surprise when she finally managed to lift it. She set it carefully on the wooden table behind her, taking a moment to catch her breath before she tackled removing the lid. It seemed to be nailed firmly in place, a tight seal all around the lid's edges. Frowning slightly she ran her fingers over the wood, trying not to be put off by the fact that the first crate she had chosen seemed unable to be opened. After pulling at the rough wood unsuccessfully for a few moments she paused to think, painfully aware of how the tips of her fingers were raw and red, so the thought of continuing that course of action was now out of the question.

Shrugging finally when no other solution presented herself, she rested the palm of her hand over a corner of the box, biting her lower lip in concentration as she felt the familiar ki warm her skin. The wood lid creaked after a moment and she pulled her hand away, peering closer to see that the nail which had been hammered firmly into place was now buried a good few inches into the wall of the box. Testing the lid she pulled at it experimentally and smiled when the edge pulled up, though not far since the rest of the box still had three nails to take care of.

When the rest of the iron nails had been driven out of the lid she pulled it off, wrinkling her nose in surprise as a strong aroma assaulted her nostrils. She waved the lid over the top of the box once, dispelling the initial wave of fragrant air, then set the lid down on the table and began sifting through the box's contents. It seemed to be filled with at least a dozen small satchels, each one a different shade of white, beige, or brown, tied securely at their tops with rope or twine. Some were heavier than others, but most of them rested easily in the palm of her hand, their contents feeling either flaky or granular, of which those then ranged in size from fine powders to chunky pellets.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Marissa pulled out every small bag and set them on the table top, then pushed the box aside so that she might investigate them better. The first one she opened was a small, burlap colored satchel, the sides pulled up and tied securely by a long piece of frayed twine. Inside lay a large sprig of some plant, dry and crumbly to the touch, most of the leaves having already fallen off to lay at the bottom of the bag. Marissa pulled her fingers away and smelled them, recognizing the familiar scent of rosemary. She smiled and retied the bag, setting it inside the box before grabbing the next one.

This one was one of the larger bags, and much heavier, rolling between her fingers as she lifted it with her hand. Setting it on the table she carefully undid the tie, smiling when she saw a faint sparkle of white crystals. Wetting her finger she dipped it into the bag then tasted what had stuck to her skin, delighted in finding the contents to be none other than rock salt. 'This will definitely come in handy later,' she thought to herself, recalling the fact that salted meats kept much longer, promising her and Chichiri at least some meat during the winter.

Eagerly she moved onto the next sack, this one large and heavy was well, though it's contents felt much firmer and didn't yield as easily as the rock salt had to her fingers. It's outward color of medium beige did little to betray its contents, which turned out to be nearly a pound of brown sugar. Unable to resist Marissa dipped a generous finger into the sugar and nearly moaned at the taste of the sweet granules. It had been so long since she'd tasted something so sweet and delicious. Oh wow, the possibilities were endless now with what they could make.

"Why didn't we look inside these boxes sooner?" Marissa wondered aloud, grudgingly closing the bag of sweet sugar to see what else was there to find, and taste for that matter.

In all there were ten more bags to investigate, none as large as the three she had already opened, and most were significantly lighter. Their contents revealed them to contain several sticks of cinnamon, dried leaves of basil, curry powder, green tea leaves, two full heads of garlic, ground ginger, whole black pepper, dried oregano leaves, a delicious smelling five spice powder, and a generous amount of sesame seeds.

Very happy with the discoveries she'd made Marissa resealed the box and set it on the floor, turning around the grab the next crate closest to her. It turned out to lighter than the first, but still heavier than she had expected. Unfortunately this box presented the same problem as the last one, and Marissa was beginning to wonder if she should be grateful or annoyed that someone had sealed up the boxes so well.

Using the same trick from before she placed her hand over each corner of the box and pushed down the nails holding the lid in place. When she had finished she sighed and wiped her forehead, feeling slightly flushed from the amount of ki she was summoning, despite the cool air in the house. Giving the lid a good push she let it clatter to the table top, curious at the sight which greeted her beneath the lid. Three clay jars stood upright in the box, each one a different shape and size, with a tight lid covering each one.

Marissa hefted out the first jar, which happened to be the biggest of the three. Setting it on the table she saw that a wax seal had been placed around the edges of the lid, keeping whatever was inside unexposed to the air. Briefly she wondered if she should chance removing the lid, but after a moment she shrugged the thought aside. These crates had supplies in them meant to be used, whatever was in the jar was just being preserved.

Running the tip of her index finger around the circumference of the lid she slowly melted away the wax seal, gently loosening the lid with her other hand as she went. Finally it pulled away with a sticky pop and Marissa peeked inside the jar. A brown, liquid surface looked back up at her and she tipped the jar to the side, watching the liquid slowly side to the right. The scent of the liquid finally reached her nose then, and she grinned widely. _Alright, jackpot!_ With a quiet laugh she dipped her finger into the pot of honey and drew out a generous amount, licking her finger clean as she replaced the lid. _Whoever left us these boxes, you have my eternal thanks._

Not bothering to reseal the wax yet Marissa moved onto the next jar, which was shorter than the first but definitely wider than the other two. Melting away the wax once again she popped open the lid, suddenly pinching her nose at the smell that assaulted her. "Ugh, vinegar," she coughed and quickly put the lid back in place, taking a moment to reseal the lid on the off chance that the smell would leak out if she didn't. "Well, if we're ever in the mood for pickles, I'll know where to look." Marissa smiled wryly and set the jar aside, pulling out the last one.

This time after melting away the wax she leaned back before removing the lid, preparing for another attack on her senses. However nothing pungent reached her nose after a moment so she bent over the jar, seeing a deep pool of black liquid inside. Tipping the jar slightly she watched the slow, syrupy liquid roll to the lip of the jar, not unlike the honey she had just tasted before. Taking a deep whiff of the jar's contents she was greeted with a sweet, musky smell, and in the back of her mind she struggled to remember what it belonged to. It was nothing like honey, but smelled like the taste of something she was sure she had just eaten. Snapping her fingers after a moment she smiled and pushed the lid back in place. Of course, molasses!

With that box finished she turned to the next, which thankfully had a lid that easily popped off. Inside was a small assortment of cups and bowls, including a pile of wooden chopsticks bound together with pieces of twine, two of which were unfortunately snapped in half. But the tea cups and bowls were all intact, clay utensils that had been forged and glazed quite nicely. Marissa stopped to admire the craftsmanship of the dishes, noting how the hairline cracks in the glaze actually produced interesting patterns across their surfaces, diagonal lines that wrapped and swirled around the palm sized cups. There were small bowls meant for soup, and larger bowls meant for meals, four of each kind laying in the box.

Turning around the retrieve the next box Marissa realized that she had almost cleared out the corner. Two barrels and two boxes were all that remained pressed against the wall. She picked up the smallest crate first then set it aside, remembering that its contents consisted of the medical supplies she had used before, bandages and a collection of herbs she couldn't even begin to identify. _Thank god neither of us has gotten sick,_ she mused, stepping back into the cleared corner.

Both of the barrels proved too heavy to lift, and each had a ring of five nails driven into their lids, creating a tight seal that not even moisture could get through. Again Marissa contemplated her actions, for the barrels had been obviously sealed for a reason, what would happen if she suddenly exposed them to the air? Then again, winter was coming and these were meant to be used, not locked away forever. With a self assured nod Marissa set about to tackling each of the lids, wishing for a hammer despite the fact that she could use her ki to dispense with the obstacles. Summoning up a burst of controlled energy seemed a little harder then prying up the nail with a hammer's claw.

Once the lids were off she stared happily into each of the barrels. A full container of ground white flower lay in one, and a three-quarter full barrel of whole oats sat in the other. After a moment Marissa paused to wonder why the second barrel hadn't been as full as the first. Both were tightly sealed and probably hadn't been opened since they were placed in the house. Suddenly the answer came to her and she made a disgusted face, placing the lid back on top. Room for things to grow was what it meant. Shuddering she replaced the other lid and bent down the pick up the last crate.

This one was much different from the rest, measuring at least an arm's span long, and was undoubtedly the heaviest as well, forcing Marissa to half drag, half carry it across the floor to the table. She compromised with the box and let it rest on the bench, the crate taking up nearly the entire length of it, unwilling to throw out her back by dragging it onto the table top. The lid was fixed on tightly but finally came away after a moment of hard tugging. Inside lay a wide variety of objects, some of which could be seen as the reasons the box weighed so much. Laying lengthwise in the box was a short handled shovel and how, their metal parts gleaming as though they'd never been used. Atop the equipment were an assortment of bags and satchels, each wrapped with a paper tag that was labeled in Chinese.

Sighing disappointedly at not being able to read the foreign symbols Marissa decided it was easier just to peek inside each bag and see what they contained. There were well over two dozen sacks in all and to her delight they contained an abundance of roots and vegetable seeds. Potato, onion, carrot, tomato, pea, garlic, rice, and plenty of others she couldn't identify lay individually within the bags.

_I hope Chichiri will know,_ Marissa thought excitedly, retying each of the pouches before placing them back into the crate. _This means we get to have a vegetable garden in spring! Fresh fruits and vegetables, and who knows what else. No more rice and fish for me! _That brought to mind their usual breakfast, making her blanche at the memory._ We're definitely going to have a garden. We could probably plant it right outside the house, get fresh dirt and fertilizer from the city, maybe even put a fence around the whole thin-_

Suddenly Marissa stopped her train of thought, hands clenching against the lid of the gardening box. "Baka," she breathed out sharply.

What was she thinking? In spring Miaka and Taka would come, and then everything would go to hell. How could she have forgotten, or dared to make plans as though nothing were happening?

_''ve gotten too comfortable here,_ she realized in dismay.

Seeking a task to distract her mind with she quickly restacked all of the boxes into the corner, hands moving as though afraid if she stopped her thoughts would eventually land upon the subject she dreaded most to think of. Finally the last box was back in place and she sat down heavily on the bench, fingers picking at the homespun fabric of her dress.

"There's a war coming." She spoke sternly, yet in the quiet of the house her voice came out strangely hollow and lonely. "No time to play, or make plans, or forget."

_Or fall in love,_ she added silently. What weight did an imaginary crush have when you were faced with the real thing in flesh and blood? She was jeopardizing everything by hoping that maybe one day something would happen. Would not happen. He had already made his position clear to her. Mentor, student. Companions in a fight. Nothing more. _It's time you get that through your head, Mari._

Rising from the bench she walked to the open window and looked out, eyes traveling over the contours of the gray-white clouds that had begun to drift overhead. "I hate it here," she choked sadly, clenching her jaw in an effort to not let the tears come that she could feel building up inside her chest. _My family, my friends, my pets... everyone I loved, who cared about me, gone. And now I'm stuck here with a guy, the most beautiful man I've ever known, and he positively hates me._

She was trying hard not to cry, because she had been good so far and only cried a few times in the beginning. _Everyone hates it when the girls cry,_ she thought despondently, but even as the bitter thought passed through her mind her barriers were already breaking down. Biting her lip in a last effort she felt a quick sob escape and the first tear trickled down her cheek, tracing a path that was soon to be followed by many others. But strangely after a moment it wasn't the hot feeling of tears that touched her face, but a few cool, light drops. Blinking she looked up, and felt the light sprinkle begin to come down, cooling her flushed face. But the grief was still there and soon her tears turned from hot to warm as they mixed with the cool rain that slowly fell from the sky.

* * * * * * *

It was dark, outside and inside. Marissa's footfalls on the wood floor paced nervously back and forth, a low fire in the hearth flickering uncertainly between orange and yellow, while the winds outside howled and blew. What had begun earlier as a light sprinkle had turned into a heavy downpour, with winds that gusted past the house as though seeking to knock down its walls. Flashes of lightening shone through the cracks in the shuttered windows, which were now lashed tightly from the rain, followed right after by a thundering boom that sent even Tama-chan running for cover.

Now stuck inside Marissa could do no more than make sure that the fire didn't die down and straighten up around the small house, which by now no more could really be done in. But when the rains had begun to fall in earnest and the storm that wasn't supposed to hit did, then she began to worry. Chichiri hadn't returned yet from his trip to the city and with each passing second she dreaded the worst had happened. With rains like this he could easily have been trapped inside the city until they abated, or maybe the road had been flooded, or maybe he'd been walking when the storm hit and now he was lost in the woods!

Stopping her pacing Marissa rolled her eyes and gave her forehead and light slap. _Baka. You're not helping this any._

Alright, so practically what could she do about this? Either sit at home and wait patiently for him to return on the hope that he was even on his way and not still at the city, because she was not looking forward to waiting up the whole time. Or she could brave the storm and see if he was coming down the road, just to reassure herself that he was on his way. There'd be no problem with ducking outside quickly, right? Then again, she could just go to sleep and try to forget about it, having faith that her sensei would be there in the morning when she woke up, just as cold and untalkative as usual.

Marissa scowled at the thought and tapped her foot impatiently. _There's no way I'm going to sit up now. He doesn't even deserve me being this worried about him!_ For all she knew he'd already settled down for the night at some nice inn and was sipping a warm cup of tea, not even thinking about the student he'd left at home by herself, totally confident that she would follow his orders to the letter and wait for him to return like an obedient dog.

At this point Marissa was steaming and very torn between being openly belligerent and just storming outside, or flopping down on the bed and forgetting all of this had ever happened. _Maybe when I wake up I'll be back home. Oh what a nice thought..._

A persistent light scratching roused her from her thoughts and she looked around curiously, eyes finally landing on the floor where Tama-chan sat in front of the door. He was pawing at the wooden frame, claws catching hold of the coarse wood as he stretched, small plaintive mews emitting from his tiny throat. Concerned Marissa stood up and crouched down beside him, patting his head as he continued to claw at the door.

"Tama-chan, doushite no?" But his only reply was a sad meow, followed by more insistent scratching.

Wondering what could be wrong Marissa opened the door a crack, peering into the dark air for the reason why the cat had suddenly grown so anxious. However to her surprise, and before she could stop him, Tama leapt through the small opening and bounded away, his body a white blur disappearing down the road.

"Shimatta!" Marissa cursed and grabbed a blanket that was sitting on the bench, wrapping it over her head and shoulders as she ran after the cat, hearing the door slam behind her as she waved her hand and sent a burst of ki to close it.

Though Tama-chan was out of sight now, she had seen the direction he had taken off in, and with determined steps she hurried after. Soon the house fell out of sight behind her and she entered the road that ran through the woods, no wider than two horses across, and unfortunately offering plenty cover for a cat to hide in. Exasperated Marissa slowed her walk and began to look into the foliage alongside the road, calling out Tama's name every few feet.

Every clap of thunder overhead sent her jumping, not to mention it was drowning out her voice, or any sounds that might be coming from Tama-neko. _Oh if I ever wished for more powers, it would be to send away this damn storm!_ she thought angrily, but as nature would have it, the storm only pounded down harder on her head, thoroughly soaking the thin blanket. Dripping wet now and getting colder by the minute, Marissa called out for the vanishing cat, wishing desperately that there were such things as umbrellas in ancient China.

Crouching down by the side of the road she looked into the line of trees and shrubs, trying to make out anything that looked like a soaked ball of white fur. Seeing nothing she turned to rise up, but stopped when another sound greeted her ears. It was far away, but definitely not something you'd hear when stuck out in a heavy downpour. Turning her head in the direction she squinted into the sheet of water that was falling before her eyes, struggling to make out anything against the gray backdrop of the sky on the road. Then a figure rose from the horizon, and her eyes widened in surprise.

Dashing over as quickly as possible, feet skidding dangerously in the mud and water, she reached Chichiri's side just in time to keep him from stumbling to his knees. He was soaked from head to foot, the staff clutched tightly by both hands as if it were a life line. It had been the jingle of the rings that had caught her attention she realized now, but that fact was filed back into her mind as she realized that state of the man that was leaning against her now.

"Chichiri?" she called loudly, struggling to be heard over the roar of a thunder clap that had decided to go off overhead. However his eye, which was now maskless, only rose to look at her face weakly. Worriedly she placed a wet hand on his forehead and pulled away suddenly as though she had been burned. He was on fire!

"Oh gods..." she choked out, adjusting the limp body against her shoulder as she began dragging him back towards the house. It was like all of his energy had been drained, his feet only shuffling weakly as she pulled him along with her. It was amazing that he had gotten this far at all. But Marissa tried not to think about that as she adjusted her grip on the full sized man. They were both soaked to the bone now, but even through the wool shirt Chichiri was wearing she could feel the fever leaking through his skin.

_You baka!_ she admonished him silently, gritting her teeth as she struggled to make out the road in front of them, finding her vision blurred by her matted hair and the heavy rain. He hadn't been eating or sleeping and for all she knew he had completely wasted his ki energy as well during all those meditations. How could he do this to himself, and then put himself in such danger? Gods if she hadn't come out here...

She struggled not to think of that as they finally came to the house, the door flying open awkwardly as she pushed it with her hand, not trusting herself to muster up the ki in her current state. Breathing heavily she dragged Chichiri into the bedroom and practically dropped him on the bed, which drew a low moan of pain from his lips. Tentatively she touched his forehead again, retracting her hand just as quickly, positive now that the fever she'd felt had been real. Quickly she divested him of his outer clothing and shoes, her own soaked state forgotten as she worked to slide him into the bed. Every time she touched him he moaned, as though every muscle in his body was in pain, and somewhere in her mind Marissa knew that the fever had managed to spread far and fast.

_Oh gods, Mitsukake, if I ever needed you, now would be the time!_ Her silent prayer was lost in the clap of a distant roll of thunder, and the rain outside the house poured down just as heavily, the world nothing more than a wet gray patch, erasing everything in its path.

~*~*~*~

Check out the rest of my writings and updates for this story at http://home.pacbell.net/gahran :) 


	12. Chapter 11

Author's note: I do sincerely apologize for the lateness of this chapter and all of you have been so kind and patient with me that I can't thank you enough. Hopefully I won't be so far behind with the next installment, but I can make no promises since I now have a full time job and a full time boyfriend *grin* A great big thank you to the first dozen reviewers of my story on ff.net. All of you made my year with your wonderful comments and words of support. This chapter is for you guys!

Chapter 11:

_Panic. I must not panic._

The litany that was repeating over and over in Marissa's mind did little to abate the fear that was quickly welling up inside her, nearly to the point of spilling out in a torrent of frustrated tears. The smallest crate's contents were spilled out over the table top, a jumbled mess of small packets, satchels, twigs, and utensils, blurring into an incomprehensible jumble that swam before her eyes. Her hands flitted nervously over the haphazard piles, touching nothing, straying close then backing away, unsure of what she could use or should use or absolutely not use in the situation.

With a near scream of frustration she backed away from the table, shutting her eyes and placing the heels of her palms against her damp forehead, her hair still dripping from the torrent of rain that was pouring outside. Grinding her hands against her head she willed away the pain that was lancing through her frontal lobe, deep shuddering breaths being forced in and out through her lungs. Her teeth were chattering from the chill that was sweeping through her body, fed on by the intense pounding of her heart. Fear and adrenaline were coursing through her veins, building up to an aching point in the center of her forehead, the throbbing flow of blood beating strongly beneath her finger tips.

Angrily she bit down hard on her lower lip, using the new source of pain as a distraction as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, blinking while she looked around the room and tried to take in everything anew. The room was cast in a dim red orange glow, the fire nearly burned out, along with a wooden crate thrown carelessly into a corner, its innards laying across the table like a patient waiting to go under the knife. Except this surgeon hadn't even been to med school.

Clenching her fists she strode over to the fireplace and thrust 3 more logs into the coals, stirring them into a healthy blaze that soon cast a warm bright light over the room. With nearly steady hands she bent down and picked up the iron kettle, bringing it to the front door where she set it outside, letting it fill with water from the falling rain. A good fire and hot water was all she could muster up being able to do right now.

Apprehensively she glanced back at the table, then to the doorway which led into the room where Chichiri lay. Neither offered her a good alternative. To either face her very sick patient or try to make sense of the supplies which were spread out before her. After a moment she shook her head and headed into the next room. If she stared at that pile any longer her head would split open from the pain.

She stepped over the threshold quietly, feeling the noticeable drop in temperature between the main room and the bedroom. She'd have to find a way to do something about that. That's right, she encouraged as she approached the bedside. Start thinking objectively, panicking isn't going to help anyone, especially Chichiri.

His outer clothing lay piled on the floor at the foot of the chair, the kesa laying on the seat and staff wedged between the chair and the wall. His mask had been nowhere to be found when she'd set him down on the bed. In his weakened state the spell holding on the mask had probably worn off, meaning that the article of disguise was somewhere on the rain washed road.

Standing at the bedside Marissa placed a slightly trembling hand on Chichiri's forehead, flinching at the intense warmth that burned there. He was still wearing his shirt and leggings, which were quickly soaking the mattress as the wet garments plastered themselves to his body. They would have to come off.

Moving her fingers to the clasps at his shoulder she paused and bit her lip. _Now isn't the time to suddenly get modest Mari. He did this for you once. You need to suck it up and do the same for him._ She worked quickly and opened the top of the shirt, then spent a minute awkwardly raising Chichiri's arms over his head as she tugged the shirt off his torso. When it finally came off he immediately began shivering, flesh now exposed to the cool air. His one eye was open, their ocher depths pained and withdrawn as he shifted slightly and moaned.

Worriedly Marissa placed her hand on his face, hoping to calm him as she reached for the blanket at the end of the bed. With a quick tug she draped the folds of it over his bare well-toned chest, tucking his arms beneath the dry fabric. His hands were clenching in spasms, muscles tensing before being allowed to relax momentarily again. Attempting to soothe away the pain as much as she could she gently rubbed his shoulders, smoothing the blanket over his skin, creating a gentle friction that would help to warm him while she continued on to her next task.

With a soft clatter his pair of black flat-footed shoes were dropped to the floor, the lacing around his leggings soon following, with thankfully no complicated knots to hamper her progress. The leggings themselves soon joined the pile and with a bright flush she quickly undid the ties on the front of his pants. Before she could continue though the need for modesty overcame her and she pulled the blanket down over his thighs before grasping the fabric at his knees and pulling them down completely. Well damn, he sure had nice legs too.

_Oh god, stop it,_ she berated herself, unfurling the blanket so it reached from his chin to over his toes. She had a feeling that it would hardly be enough though and got down on her hands and knees, searching under the bed for the extra blankets Chichiri kept to sleep on at night. Finding one she withdrew it shook it out before draping it gently over him, noticing with relief as she tucked it in that he was no longer shivering as badly.

Keeping herself busy she gathered up his wet clothing and cloak and took them back to the main room, leaving them spread out on the chair beside the hearth. Remembering the kettle she'd left outside she quickly retrieved it and hung it on the rusted metal hook hanging inside the fire place, pausing before the blaze to warm her hands and body, the clothes she was wearing still heavily damp from the rain. She crossed her arms after a moment and turned around, letting her backside warm as her gaze swept over the room.

Nothing. No clue or idea at all of how to use any of what was laid out before her, its messy state not helping in the least. She'd read of teas that helped to lower fevers, but had no way of knowing if what she was choosing was even the right herb. And the worst part was that there was no way she could have been prepared for this situation. People falling under illness in rural China just weren't situations that were taught during Health in high school. All she could hope to do even today would be to hand him a few Tylenol, some cough medicine, and let the miracle drugs do their work. What kind of sick, twisted fate had decided that she should be faced with this kind of predicament without even a prayer of saving him.

_Praying... oh gods, Taiitsukun! Why didn't I think of her before?_

Marissa nearly tripped and fell in her haste to get back into the bedroom. She snatched up the straw kasa and peered into it, hoping for some sign that the mode of transport she'd seen Chichiri use once would make itself available to her too. Nothing inside the hat seemed to be different though, no signs of the light nor dark swirls of matter that tended to signify that something magical was taking place.

Worriedly she bit her lip and lowered the kasa to be level with her abdomen, squeezing her eyes shut in a faint hope that perhaps just wishing might make it come true. Slowly she brought her free hand forward, inching her fingers closer to the coned depths of the hat. Slowly, slowly she pressed forward, still touching air, and then her index finger brushed damp straw.

_Dammit._

Defeated she let the kasa fall to the floor, vaguely feeling its heavy straw brim smack her exposed toes. She was out of options.

Chichiri's staff was out of the question. She knew for a fact that if anyone other than him attempted to use the staff they'd be blown to smitherens, or at least get a nice, shocking awakening to their misdeed. The magic protecting it was too high for her to even attempt removing it unless she wanted some ugly burns and maybe a missing limb.

Her gaze flickered over to Chichiri's sweaty form on her bed and she felt her heart clench. _Even so, it'd be worth it to save you._

Her heart was thumping nervously as her gaze floated away from the bed over to the staff which was propped up against the wall opposite her. No, Marissa, you can't be serious, a part of her warned, watching with fear and confusion as one hand lifted and reached out towards the slender pole. It was a shame, really, she thought as her fingers caressed the smooth wood. That the man who had the power to unlock this was laying near death on her bed, the knowledge tucked securely away in his head.

Marissa's fingers stopped just short of wrapping completely around the staff. _Shit. You _are_ an idiot Marissa!_

But it was with a smile on her face complimentary to a problem solved as she spun around and knelt by the bedside, heart beating with assured determination. Laying her two hands atop the blankets that covered Chichiri's shivering form she gently and lovingly brushed her hands over the coverlet, letting her right hand move down his arm while the other came up to his bare shoulder and neck, feeling the hot pulse thumping strongly, if not a little erratically beneath his skin. She clasped his right wrist firmly between her fingers, feeling the little tremors that zipped through his skin like currents of electricity and his own hand clench at hers in response, which brought a firmer smile to her lips.

"Chichiri," she whispered, cupping her hand to the side of his face, fingers brushing back the wet blue strands that had fallen over his cheek bone.

He blinked wearily, his eye focusing slowly on the dark ceiling overhead, the tremors in his body stilling for a moment as he fought to focus on that whisper of a word. "Chichiri," she implored again, gently tipping his face so that his eye turned to be level with her own. His gaze was still hazy with pain, but comprehension drifted through his deep ocher eye and Marissa couldn't help but sigh in relief.

Unexpectedly a small smile formed on his lips as their gazes locked, the barest curl of the corners of his mouth, faint lines beside his eye that Marissa had never seen before crinkling to life. Real tears pricked under her eyelashes as she gave a small hiccup of relief, squeezing the hand under the blankets reassuringly.

"Chichiri, you're very sick right now and I need your help to make you better. I've got all of the medicine we have but I don't know what to do with you. You know though, right?"

A moment's digestion, then a weak nod of his head. He opened his mouth to speak but Marissa moved her fingers over in time to cover his lips. "No no, it's ok, don't talk. I'm going to read your mind Chichiri, but I need you to open it for me. Can you do that?"

A raspy sigh escaped his lips as he shut his eye, his head rolling back onto the pillow weakly, a single wincing of his brow the only indication of the pain he was in. A full minute passed as Marissa sat by his side holding her breath, wondering if he had understood, if she should rouse him again or attempt to push into his mind forcefully. In his weak state such a feat would undoubtedly be easy, but there was a matter of privacy involved here, and Marissa knew that there were secrets Chichiri would like to keep until his dying day.

_It's alright!_ she wanted to shout, _I know it all already. You're still the same person to me..._ but she kept her silence, knowing that it was his decision alone to offer permission.

As the silence stretched on she felt worry creeping in, her teeth attacking her lower lip as she waited for his answer. Her hand had fallen to the pillow when he'd moved his head and gently she placed it back on the side of his face. He seemed to start at that and blinked open his eye, staring for a moment at the ceiling before it slowly slid over to regard her.

"Hai," came the ragged whisper, a voice so soft and deep and filled with the pain not just of physical injury, but with the knowledge that he had just consented to lay open his soul.

Moved beyond words by his decision Marissa felt her heart swell, unsure of whether she wanted to cry or kiss the man laying beside her. Safely she opted for smiling and squeezing his hand in thanks, rising up to perch herself on the bed beside him. Feet firmly planted on the floor she placed both hands behind his cheek bones, the exceptionally warm skin a reminder to the task at hand she was working to solve. Unconsciously she brushed her thumbs across his skin before closing her eyes, concentrating on establishing the link they had once shared what seemed a lifetime ago.

Through her fingers she felt her consciousness moving, seeping into his mind cautiously, gently, announcing herself not as an intruder but as a friend seeking aid. She felt his mind respond in kind, a bit sluggishly, but it yielded to her gentle demands and let her pass through...

* * * * * *

It was like floating into another world, identifiable as another mind but completely alien. Like each snowflake that fell from the sky, perfectly symmetrical and pristine in their making, yet not one completely like another. Composed from the same mould, forged in the same world, shaped by life's events and its lessons, but as different and unique as two strangers meeting by chance.

Soft but wary, admitting but cautious. His mind did not envelop her presence but slowly backed away from it, leaving behind a fever laden trail undermined by badly concealed anxiety. She could feel her mind flinching as it brushed against those tender spots, pushing back the urge to reach out and cradle his wounded soul and blank out those memories that continued to haunt him so much. But she could do no such thing. She was a guest and a little more than a stranger to his mind, to his true inner mind. This was the place he had never let her venture into before, the part that had been kept secret so tightly. She knew there were long corridors in his mind that led to places even she didn't know about.

_I am sorry..._ she sent out the whisper of an apology towards the consciousness that was slowly retreating to make way for her probe. Perhaps he felt her grief and remorse for the needed intrusion because it paused and shuddered, an inaudible sigh shivering through it.

She paused as well and remained still, waiting for something, not sure what exactly but aware that a moment was approaching that she did not wish to deter. Soon it pulsed softly and the emotions that were leaking from it shifted to less apprehension and more resignation.

_I should show you where you need to go._ His inner voice reverberated around her, pained but strong, with a sense of purpose that was probably deterring him from noticing the nakedness he felt at her presence.

Marissa resisted the urge to mentally clench her teeth at his self-pitying attitude. It was times like this that she wondered why she had let herself fall for such a guy. It was always the depressed ones that tore at your heart the most but made you end up coming back for more because you were sure that you could help them this time. As she drifted up alongside him she watched him draw in further upon himself, preventing any contact between their consciousness, and she heard her own inner voice come out tight and irritated. _Let's get this over with._

Twists and turns appeared before them as they drifted deeper, Chichiri leading the way silently, Marissa following dutifully, neither speaking. Though time is a relative thing in a place like the mind it felt to take awhile before Chichiri finally stopped, settling before a fuzzy globe that swirled with colors of pink, yellow, and green.

_My memories of useful things,_ he explained offhandedly, a taste of sarcasm dripping from his tone that flushed his color dark red for a moment.

The words were out before she could stop them. _You couldn't save Mitsukake, or anyone else. They chose their fates._

He shuddered and Marissa felt annoyance and surprise emanate from him._ Hai,_ he agreed after a moment, the admission sounding more like a bitter chuckle than acceptance. _You say things like that so easily. As though you understand what it's like to lose your friends, your comrades in arms, your leader. You claim you know so much about my life, our world, but all you did was read it in a book and you think that gives you the right to tell me that everything is OK?_

Each dagger sharpened word hit their mark and Marissa flinched away from him surprised, wounded by his sudden change in tone. _I didn't know..._ she began apologetically, but was cut off by his exhausted inner voice.

_Please take what you need and go,_ the real anguish of this invasion of privacy finally reaching his words. He backed away from her, inward suffering and a hint of remorse coloring his wake. _You should be able to find your own way out... ugh!_

_Chichiri!_ she cried in alarm, watching his consciousness suddenly writhe and color in pain. Before she could think of what she was doing she had sprung upon him, wrapping her mind around his in an effort to blanket the pain and share it with her own mind.

_No!_ he cried out but it was too late and she felt her being merging into his.

The pain was intense but not long lasting and it left both of them panting inwardly as they sought to recover themselves. _Get out,_ he pleaded, trying to curl away from the other mind that was suddenly permeated entirely through his own. _I won't,_ she responded and firmly embraced herself around him, cradling the mind that was struggling to slip away and hide again. By some twist of circumstances his weakened body seemed to have left his mind in a similar state, for his squirming soon ended in a feeble sigh that shook through his entire being. _Why won't you leave me be?_

_You're asking the impossible... sweetheart,_ she chided gently, spurred on by the power of presence and domination over her mentor. She felt her confidence growing as she petted his consciousness with a love and tenderness she knew he hadn't felt in years. _I never want to hurt you, believe that. I know you so well yet I don't know you at all. You're a beautiful mystery to me and I wish I could prove to you that you can trust me, that I know..._

She stopped as images rose unbidden in her mind, memories of watching TV, feeling her heart wrench in sympathy and pain for the man she saw on screen battling the demons from his past. Their story was as well known as her own life, each moment in time carried preciously to be remembered and studied, to laugh and cry with when her own life seemed too mundane in comparison. They were of another world but just as human as herself and for that she loved each of their challenges and stories. With those memories faces and moments in time flashed by, blended together in a dance she knew all too well, her most memorable times on screen... and she knew with a sinking certainty in her heart that he could see these memories as well.

_What...?_ He exclaimed out in confusion before regaining himself. _Marissa, what are these?_

_My memories,_ she confessed sadly and clenched down tightly on the path her mind was taking. So tempted to reveal the truth to him but scared of the consequences. To risk altering time, all for the sake of proving to one man that he didn't have to be alone in his grief; a leap of faith and love that she wasn't sure would do any good in the end. But he was speaking again...

_I saw faces, I saw us there. What was I seeing, Marissa?_ There was a long pause as he accepted her silent answer_. It was the future. Why... why was I in so much pain. Tell me, please._

She felt herself shaking inside, so close to the edge, wanting to give in to that smooth deep voice that cracked with pain and need, the very emotions she had sought to remedy and drive away, but now **she** was the cause of them, but... _I can't,_ she whispered, feeling the anguish of her position breaking free.

_I want to!_ she cried as she felt him start to pull back, hurt and confused.

_It's ok,_ he said softly, shrinking in her mind's embrace. She clung to him as she felt him try to close up. _Don't do this Chichiri, not again. You've been going on long enough with your coldness and you unresponsiveness. Don't you think it's been hurting me too?_

A barely audible whisper floated back. _It's my lot in life..._

_Houjun!_ she snapped angrily, too upset to care of the implications she brought on by calling his real name.

He jerked in surprise but remained silent. Perhaps now he finally realized the truth of her knowledge. After everything that he had seen and felt and heard, becoming part of another's mind that had seen the future, there had to be no doubt left within him.

There was no movement from his mind for a time and cautiously she spoke again. _I'm sorry, but I can't let you think that._

He gave a soft snort. _You know my name. You know my past, my future, you seem to know everything. What in Suzaku's name do you want with me?_

_I want..._ her thought paused, teetering on the edge of confession_. You can't give me what I want._

_Try me._

It was a challenge spoken with curiosity and something else she couldn't define, even in this state of emotional intimacy. There was something lurking behind the question. Was it hope? No gods it wouldn't be that. He was waiting though, tensely and silently. That was unexpected. What could she say to that? I love you, I want you, let me be the only one you'll ever care for in your life? And watch him hide away from her again because he was too ashamed to accept anyone's love, especially that from another woman. She knew his answer, his rejection, she could feel it in the very mind around her. His self disgust and perversion to live on with his skeletons while doing his duty to world and god without a thought for himself.

She was getting angry, she could feel it snaking up through her mind and she knew he could feel it too as he drew back slightly in surprise at her response.

But suddenly it was gone, and in its place sat a lonely sadness that flooded through her like a cold slap of reality.

_Don't ask me, Houjun. I'll never have it... _and the sadness of that statement rolled off of her in miserable waves.

She pried her mind away from his before he could protest and quickly gathered the knowledge she needed from his memories. An infusion of yarrow, vervain, hops for sleep and mint for taste (and their respective Chinese characters) would bring down the fever and take away most of the pain. Like a fleeing prisoner she escaped from his mind and flowed back into her own, drawing in heavy breaths as she familiarized herself with her consciousness' home again.

When she opened her eyes he was looking up at her dazedly, eyes glazed but silently questioning. Fighting back tears she bent over, hands still cupped around his face, and kissed him softly on the forehead. Her lips lingered there for a moment, listening to the sound of steady rain falling on the roof and his short breaths that ran tremors under the skin she was touching.

"I love you," she whispered, but when she looked down his eyes were closed in the heavy slumber of exhausted sleep. 


	13. Chapter 12

Author's Notes: I know, miracles of miracles, I actually posted another chapter in under a week O.o The only credit I can take is the inspiration I got from the countless fans that have posted in regard to this story. All of you are wonderful and I hope I continue to make your reading experience enjoyable :) A very special thanks to my new beta reader, Amy-chan, who put the perfect finishing glaze on this chapter, domo arigatou!

Chapter 12:

"Kuso!"

The loud swear faded away into the distance, save for a distinct muttering that consisted of several other profane expletives. Balancing on one foot, Tasuki strained to reach the boot that was securely stuck in the mud behind him. The brown leather boot finally came free after a moment of good tugging with a loud, sucking plop, sending the maroon clad seishi hopping back a few paces on one foot to regain his balance while he tried to put back on his boot.

When the article was firmly back in place on his foot the red-head sighed and brushed a hand through his spiky forelocks, legs spread and a hand on his hip as he gazed over the mud pocketed roadbed. Why oh why had he stupidly decided to start traveling during the wettest season of the year? He knew the answer to that question however dense some people might think him to be_. Damn you, Kouji!_

In the warm confines of the impenetrable Reikaku hide-out, taking a vacation for a short while and visiting old friends seemed to be a welcomed and perfectly sane idea. Robbing and pillaging just didn't hold the same excitement when villagers groveled and handed over their goods without a fuss because the thieves had a Suzaku seishi as one of their co-leaders. "Go take a break," Kouji had said. "Th'guys are fine, they're livin it up! But I know ya, Genrou, y'need sum action. Otherwise yer like a caged wolf an I can't have ya bitin off my hand jus cause ya need ta show yer fangs every now n'then."

He supposed he had been getting a little snappish with Kouji and the guys lately. But he'll be damned if that was his fault. It wasn't as though he'd asked to have the spirit of a warrior flowing inside of him, itching to fight and face challenges that would probably kill him, all for the sake of feeling his blood pound furiously through his veins and experience the heated adrenaline of battle. Granted, he wasn't about to hand away his Suzaku given powers if given the chance. He doubted even his final moments on some deserted road somewhere would invoke him to give up his abilities just for a few moments more of life. How many men in the world got to wield a fire spouting iron fan and possess the incredible speed and strength of an ookami anyway?

"Pfft, just you Gen-chan," he snorted, amused at his own train of thought.

He'd made a dreaded stop at his childhood home first, cringing even before he arrived as the loud cat-calls of his mother floated out to reach his ears, a shrill voiced laced with authority that had probably been the cause of Genrou's father never sticking around for long. When he arrived he was welcomed into the bosomed embrace of his mother, fighting back the wave of nausea that always accompanied these encounters. His five sisters hadn't been much better, still treating him like the youngest sibling of the family despite his 18 years. The reason they all weren't married off yet was painfully obvious to him, as each one only reminded him of his mother in some, inwardly cringing way. They'd petted and cooed over his sparkly jewelry and fitted him up with this oh-so-stylish tunic that really brought out the red flecks in his amber eyes, or so they'd said. He'd only allowed them so much liberty with his looks, because when they'd brought out the knife to trim his hair, he knew his visit was going to be a lot shorter than he'd planned.

Genrou wasn't really a bad son; no, just adventurous and free spirited. His mother had known since Genrou's birth of the fate that awaited her youngest child, the destiny of being a Suzaku seishi and fighting alongside the rest of the celestial warriors to protect their miko's wishes, even to the death. He sometimes wondered if that's why she'd coddled him so much, afraid to let him go and grow up to be the man he was meant to be. Not like that had stopped him though. If anything it had made him grow stronger as a fighter, constantly trying to push back the memories of never being allowed to fall and get hurt, always surrounded by doting women who protected his childish body, sheltering him from the evils of the world with chores and seeking to fatten him with contentment. But his warrior spirit won out in the end, and by the age of 11 he was head of his own childhood gang and spitting fire any way he could. The poor animals of his home village soon learned where to keep away from.

By the time he was 15 and old enough to be feared by the village shopkeepers who blinked nervously every time he entered their shops, Shun'u knew he was destined for bigger and better things. His mother had tried to deter him, using his destiny as a bargaining chip, a reason for him to stay home and not follow a path of thievery and the life of a gangster. That had sealed it for him. Whatever his mother wanted him to be he would fight to be the opposite. So one day he had simply walked out of town, but not before snagging some food and money off a vendor's cart. He was going to arrive at the western capitol of Souun and make a proper, manly name for himself. The fact that he was waylaid by a few pesky bandits and saved by Reikaku's leader Hakurou was an unexpected but advantageous turn of events that he couldn't pass up. And the rest, they say, is history.

But visiting his family had been a week ago. He'd managed to stay one night before he nearly ran screaming out of the house the next day, feigning an excuse of needing to do business for the Empress. Hey, sometimes being a godly warrior had its benefits. After making a few stops at the local hotspots and making sure that all of his Mt. Reikaku protected land was in order, he graciously accepted the gift of a decent traveling horse and all its baggage from a swindler that had made the mistake of setting up a small wagon-based shop in his town. He'd ridden the long way around the mountain into Souun after that, refreshing his contacts with the city based thieves and checking on business in general. Those errands had finally ended two days ago.

So then, why in the four god's names was he on this mud splattered road, dodging puddles and wheel rutted death traps that had already ended up coating his boots and legs in an attractive color of yellow-brown?

"I am not lost." Sure you're not, an inner voice taunted. Perhaps he was a tiny bit out of his way though. He'd started riding east after Souun, not exactly sure where he was going, perhaps braving the capitol if he found himself getting that far. Houki-sama would be sure to set him up for awhile, but the chances of seeing the ailing Empress would be nill. She had given birth what, just six months ago? The whole province had been in celebration over that, especially given the gender of the child. Their empire now had a new heir. But according to Genrou's sources and a well kept quiet rumor, the Empress had never fully recovered from the delivery and spent most of her days in bed, quietly tending her baby that some say had never cried, even at birth. Maybe he would stop in at Eiyou, give his congratulations and see if he could do anything to help. But not before he'd traced down another lead.

He'd been using his bandit instincts and was following on the lead of a few strange rumors, which he made him want to laugh at their audacity but speculate on the strangeness of them. Rumor one: that a Buddhist monk with blue hair had been spotted by one of his men during a supply run in a city to the east ­ ok, check for last Suzaku seishi. Rumor two: a Suzaku warrior was rumored to have been seen staying in an inn with a pretty young woman ­ well scratch that for being Chichiri. Genrou doubted the monk could stand women any more than he could, considering he'd never shown any interests remotely like those of Nuri, Tama, or Hotohori, or had had a girlfriend like Mitsukake did. Rumor three: a strange looking hermit with a mask had taken up residence in an abandoned house outside of the same city his man had reported from ­ Tasuki had a feeling not too many people in the world wore magical masks, so that was a big check for his Suzaku companion.

Now it wasn't his fault that he was a sucker for hard cases. When he'd come across the woman and little girl on the roadside and found out their house had caught fire from a tree that had been hit by lightening, what could he do but offer up his free horse and most of the money on its back? It wasn't like he had need of that stuff anyway. But now he was horseless and the pack of food slung over his shoulder he'd taken from the horse was running low. He'd skirted around the beforementioned city when he'd finally arrived yesterday, not really feeling up to drawing attention to his presence there. Being Mt. Reikaku's leader and a seishi went hand in hand for him, which meant that _somebody_ was going to be an idiot and try to prove themselves against him. Needless to say the brawny idiot ended up getting fried in the end, literally, but the reputation damage from fighting in the streets usually forced Tasuki to leave town asap. This time he opted for pitching a small camp in the woods off the main road and surviving on the rations he had. Not too bad really, except when it came to finding a patch of dry ground.

The big rainstorm that had hit the eastern provinces while he was in Souun had paved the way for several smaller storms that sprinkled their way across the southern country, never letting the roads become entirely dry, which created the deep mud puddles that were constantly trying to swallow his shoes. What he wouldn't give to have that horse back right now.

He rounded a bend in the brown road and gratefully stepped onto a small wooden bridge suspended over a steadily flowing river, swelled nearly to the top of its banks by the excessive rain water it had accumulated. The sun was shining brightly between gigantic white puffy clouds with light gray bottoms, all against a deep blue sky that seemed to mock the recently overcast skies they'd had. Having been there the whole time behind the stormy rain clouds, washing itself clean until it reflected the color of the bluest ocean, and now on display for the world to see after the dreary days of before.

It was all quite beautiful, though somewhat blinding while the golden sunlight sparkled off the running water, and Genrou paused a moment on the bridge to shield his eyes while he looked around.

"Hmmm?"

Upstream a bit from his vantage point a young woman was hauling a large bucket filled with water out of the river. Her reddish hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and she seemed to be wearing normal peasant clothing, knee length dress over a pair of pants and a dark blue jacket. A bit uncommon of a color to see be worn by common folks, but he'd seen worser things in his life than a bad taste in clothing. She hadn't noticed him watching her though and turned to shuffle back into the woods, carrying the sloshing bucket unsteadily between her knees.

An amused smirk alighted on Genrou's face and after a second's contemplation he shrugged. What the heck, he'd been doing so many good deeds already that adding another to the list wouldn't hurt. Setting off at a brisk stride he walked off the bridge and followed the road as it curved to the left, finding himself now walking down a thickly tree lined path. His amber eyes darted into the brush on his left, searching for any sign of the girl who was due to come out of the tree line any moment now.

At a faint rustle he paused, walked another two steps down the road, then stopped and crossed his arms while he waited for the girl to emerge with her load.

After less than a minute she did, and stopped with her mouth hanging open in surprise at the sight of the man standing before her. It opened and shut like a fish gasping for air for a few seconds before settling into a startled 'o'. "Tasuki-san?" She blinked.

Well, he was getting to be a lot more famous than he thought. "Th'one an only," he grinned, flashing his fangs.

A look of puzzlement crossed her face momentarily before it cleared and look of concentration settled in her eyes. That too passed after a second and she smiled. "I suppose I better invite you over for tea." Her words were halting and spoken with a slight accent he couldn't place, but in comparison it wasn't much worse than his own broken bandit speech.

He laughed, admiring her candor. Most women to him were like his sisters, overpowering and squealing, always trying to touch and make a mess of everything. He shuddered to think of the time he got caught in a mob of crazy girls that had created a local fan club devoted to admiring one of the last two remaining seishi. "Ya dun have steamed buns by n-e chance, do ya?" he asked hopefully, taking the bucket from her red and swollen fingers.

She sighed gratefully and wiggled her frozen fingers experimentally. "I'll see what I can do," she promised, and smiled before continuing down the road, a bucket carrying Suzaku seishi in tow.

Soon enough they cleared the woods and came upon a lonely house sitting on a patch of open field, the sound of the running river coming from some distance behind the structure. The coincidence of a single home outside of the city was not lost on Genrou, and curiously he wondered if perhaps this girl might know of Chichiri's whereabouts, considering they seemed to be in about the same area. Only there were no other houses in sight, strangely enough.

The girl walked up to the door and placed her hand upon the worn wood surface a moment before pushing in, the thin door opening soundlessly on its hinges as it swung into the fire-lit house. Keeping the door open she ushered him inside and pointed towards the fireplace, where a kettle was sitting on the hearth waiting to be hung over the flames. As he crossed the room she closed the main door and walked over to another that was resting closed on the left wall. She poked her head inside the next room quietly, became satisfied with whatever she saw in there, and turned around to shut that door behind her as well.

"Whatcha got in ther?" Genrou asked while tipping the edge of the bucket over the kettle.

"My... senpai," she answered hesitantly. The blue jacket she had been wearing was shrugged off and placed on a wooden chair against the wall. "He's been sick for a few days, but you should be able to see him later."

She moved over to the fireplace to reach for the kettle, but Genrou beat her to it and hefted the heavy iron pot onto the hook inside the cooking hearth. It was a wonder she had been able to lift it herself before, she was such a small looking thing, all curves and no muscle. In the orange firelight the dark circles under her eyes seemed to spring to life, telling of many sleepless nights, probably caring for the ailing senpai in the other room. "He gonna be ok?" Genrou inquired with concern.

She nodded and sat down at the edge of the table, taking in hand a mortar and pestle that had some green and brown flaky bits crushed inside of it. Genrou eyed the table now, noticing the packages of medicine and stalks of fresh herbs that were neatly arranged on a piece of white linen. Her hand drifted over to pick up a green sprig with large green leaves, holding it up to her nose and sniffing it carefully before plucking off a single leaf and dropping it into the bowl to crush it with the rest of the herbs. The faint smell of mint wafted up to Genrou's nose. "Wha's all that?"

She started at the sound of his voice, as though she'd momentarily forgotten his presence, but then smiled and motioned for him to sit down on the bench opposite her. "Vervain," she began, pointing to the small pile closest to them. "Yarrow, skullcap, kudzu, echinacea, ginger, ginseng, knotweed, astragalus, cassia tora, mint, licorice, black berry, and hops." This last one she picked up and poised above the dish, ready to drop in, but then seemed to think better of it and put the herb back in its pile.

At Genrou's questioning look she flashed an amused smile and satisfied his curiosity. "Hops helps with sleep. But I think I should give him something to help him wake up, since you're here." Her hand drifted over the pile, a look of contemplation on her face, before selecting a small pinch of ginseng and tossing it in the tea mixture. When the whole concoction had been ground into a fine powder the kettle rumbled nosily with the boiling water inside it and she hopped up to hoist the pot off the fire.

Suppressing a smile at her oblivious attitude of him and single-mindedness on the task at hand he watched her set down the iron kettle on the table, gingerly holding the handle with a discarded rag probably used solely for that purpose. She glanced around herself then bent down to pick up a tea cup sitting on the stones in front of the hearth, giving it a quick rinse in the bucket before drying it off with the edge of her skirt. With controlled movements she measured out the crushed herbs into the bottom of the tea cup, then reached to grip the kettle's handle, only to find Genrou's hand there instead.

"Not s'fast, nee-chan," he chided. "Let me pour. Tha' damned thing's gotta weigh a ton."

She laughed and stepped back. "As you wish, Tasuki-san."

When the water had been added she picked up the cup and gently swirled the contents, watching the liquid carefully as if it might suddenly change color on her. Whatever had taken place seemed to satisfy her though and she picked up a small wooden stirrer, using it to blend the tea's herbs thoroughly.

"Nee-chan?" Tasuki interrupted as he set the kettle back on the fire. "Ya still havn told me yer name yet."

"Oh, damn," she muttered and laughed tiredly, the emotion not reaching her eyes as she set the cup on the table top. "My name's Marissa. Mari is what everyone calls me." A stray piece of hair came loose from the steam and fell forward over her shoulder, causing her to tuck it back slowly behind her ear. "I suppose... you should come see... my senpai now."

Now why was she sounding so hesitant? "Hey, stop actin' like ya got a demon back in there or somthin," he teased, watching her flush uncomfortably. She didn't bother retorting and instead shrugged her shoulders before picking up the cup of tea. Turning she walked to the side door and pushed it open slowly, not a sound emanating from the hinges on this one either.

By the time Genrou had gotten around the table she'd disappeared into the room, and feeling a little more awkward at being a stranger in the house, he approached the open door slowly. Peeking around the edge of the frame, his mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight before him.

"Chichiri!?"

Marissa let out a hiss of annoyance from her perch on the edge of the bed beside Chichiri's sleeping form. This was exactly why she'd delayed Tasuki seeing Chichiri. She knew his reaction would be loud and volatile, at best. So ignoring his shocked expression she reached out and gently shook Chichiri awake, watching his eye open unfocusedly before it settled on her and sharpened. She smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, no da," he muttered hoarsely, followed shortly after by a few coughs.

Tasuki was by the bedside now and looking down at the ill seishi with shock. "How th' fuck did he get like this?" he demanded angrily.

Chichiri seemed to start at the sound of the bandit's voice and strained to look up at the red head. "Ohaiyo, Tasuki-kun no da. Did you come to have breakfast with us no da?"

Tasuki sported a dead panned expression at the monk's words before running a hand through his hair and glaring at Marissa, silently demanding an answer lest she be charred alive by two simple words. For the girl's sake she actually looked a bit nervous as she helped Chichiri sit up in bed and propped a pillow behind his back. "He got caught out during the big rainstorm," she explained, placing the warm cup of tea between Chichiri's pale fingers. "He's a lot better now than he was, but he still needs a few more days..."

"Dai-jo-bu no da," Chichiri muttered stubbornly behind his mug, now more fully awake and making a face at the slightly bitter liquid in his cup.

"Drink it," Marissa commanded tiredly as she tugged up the blankets and secured them around his lower ribs. For some funny reason Tasuki had a feeling this wasn't the first time these two had shared this conversation.

Obediently Chichiri blew into the cup then took a longer sip, face wrinkling slightly at the flavor. Under Marissa's steady gaze he took another long drink, reducing the contents of the cup by half, then handed it back to her to be put on the small table beside the bed. When she sat back upright she felt a warm hand rest on her shoulder. "Marissa," Chichiri began, studying her tired face and the dark circles under her eyes with concern. "I really am grateful for all this, but you need to rest too no da."

Tasuki was thoroughly confused by this time, because now they were speaking in an entirely different language, not to mention ignoring him while he stood intruding on their conversation. Then again, the fact that he couldn't understand a word Chichiri had said really didn't make much difference then, did it.

"I'm fine," Marissa answered, forcing a smile. "You're a lot more important and if I wasn't here to take care of you no one would have been. So there. Plus I've learned a ton about medicine." She gave a genuine chuckle at the last statement.

"But Tasuki-kun's here now no da," he pointed out, determined to win the argument this time.

Marissa shook her head stubbornly. "He wouldn't know how to make the teas for you, or know where anything is in the house, and" she bit her lower lip, not sure how to voice her next words.

Chichiri raised an eyebrow curiously. "Does it have something to do with the future no da?"

A half snort, giggle, escaped from Marissa's mouth. "No no, I just I like taking care of you, and I don't trust anyone else to do it." She glanced sideways at Tasuki, realizing that he had gratefully stayed quiet through this exchange of unfamiliar language.

"Iie, I won't allow it no da," he protested, switching back to Japanese and looking at Tasuki. "Tasuki-kun, Mari needs to rest for awhile. You'll take care of things no da?"

"Eh?" Tasuki blinked at suddenly finding himself included back in the conversation. "Ya... of course I will ya idiot! Whatcha doin, tryin to kill yerself takin care of him? Jus leave everythin up t'Genrou." A patented fanged grin flashed through the room.

Marissa shot one more pleading look at the two seishi, then sighed in resignation when only their matched looks of stony resolve stared back. "Ok ok," she muttered, sliding off the bed to reach underneath for the blankets kept there. "I'm only gonna take a short..." a wide yawn halted her speech, as though her body had suddenly switched off at the prospect of much needed sleep. "Nap," she muttered, standing up with two thick blankets in her arms.

Tasuki had stepped back from the bed and was now giving Chichiri a look that said, _'She's _your_ roommate, you handle it.'_

"Mari-chan, I think you should take the bed," Chichiri offered quickly, sliding out from under the covers before she could make her way to the other side of the room.

"Ya, nee-chan," Tasuki chimed in, steering a surprised Marissa back towards the bed with a no-arguing grip on her shoulders. In a matter of seconds the blankets were plucked from her hands, the bed covers turned down, the pillows fluffed, and she found herself laying on her back looking up astonished at the two seishi.

"Sleep for as long as you need, Marissa no da," Chichiri commanded softly, petting her head before drawing up the blankets and sealing her underneath their comforting warmth.

She opened her mouth to retort, but gave up when another yawn locked up her throat and managed to squeeze a tear from her eye. "Insufferable," she muttered, rolling over on to her side. The last thing she heard was Chichiri's quiet chuckle as he and Tasuki left the room. 


	14. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Lets see... thank you thank you to all my reviewers! I nearly started crying when I read all of your wonderful reviews from my last chapters because I was so touched by their kind words (seriously ask my boyfriend, I called him up all sniffly and tearful). Secondly thank you to my wonderful beta, you guys can all thank her and not me for getting this next chapter done and out so soon. She's been a wonderful inspiration to me and a great friend to chat wacky concepts with. And lastly, thanks to my wonderful fiancé, who's fault it was I began writing again in the first place ^-^

p.s. You can thank Amy-chan for the last scene in this chapter, she's very persuasive!

Chapter 13:

"Well?" Tasuki asked, raising a dark eyebrow high on his forehead.

The door behind Chichiri shut with a quiet thunk and he looked at the other seishi curiously. "Well what no da?"

"Who is she?" the red head hissed, lowering his voice at a sharp look from the monk. Mindful of the girl sleeping in the next room Tasuki set his tessen and traveling bag on the floor noiselessly, propping them up against a leg of the table.

"She's my student no da," Chichiri replied, moving over to the hearth to check on the kettle that sat steaming over the flickering flames.

"Right." A snort followed. "An' I'm the fuckin Emperor o' Konan."

"I don't know what you're implying at no da," Chichiri piqued innocently, concentrating on pouring himself a cup of tea without getting burned by the hot water. When he finished he turned around and found an unnerving smirk residing on the bandit's face.

"If I didn know ya better I'd think ya were embarrassed or sumthin Chiri. Ain't it too bad ya dun have yer mask on, which I noticed ya havn put on yet, so yer like a open book ta me fer once. So spill it blue boy, I'm yer friend, th'only one left tha knows everythin tha's happened to us. Ya owe me some explain bout her." If there was one thing he could count on, it was the monk's honesty, and those looks he'd seen exchanged between "senpai and student" spoke of a lot more than time spent studying spells to Tasuki.

Somehow in this instance, with the protruding fangs accompanying his trademark grin, they did manage to deliver across a feeling of implied threat. Chichiri had a feeling being the bandit's leader for a year had managed to put more of a backbone on Tasuki. No longer just reckless heroism, but a true knack for subterfuge and strategy. This might be harder to tip toe around than he originally thought. Most of it was her story to tell after all, but he supposed he could fill in the parts that were just as much his story. It never occurred to him that Tasuki had been heading in a completely opposite direction with his questioning.

"She comes from another world no da."

Tasuki looked liked he'd just been hit with a bucket of ice cold water. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and scratched the back of his head. "Ha ha, ya almos' had me there Chiri. I know ya too well tho, ya could tie me up to a post in Kotou's palace but ya can't fool me now. So quit skirtin round th' issue an tell me who she's really."

Chichiri shook his head and took a seat opposite Tasuki at the table. The warm cup of tea sat untouched between his hands, sending up wisps of fragrant steam that made his bangs hang limp in front of his face, neatly obscuring the scar over his left eye. "Iie, Tasuki-kun. She is from another world no da. Not from Miaka's world, but one beyond that, where they've read about Miaka's story here no da."

Tasuki looked dumb founded for a moment, forgetting his hopes of pulling a confession out of the monk. "No fuck, eh." He looked around and licked his lips nervously. "Got any sake Chiri?"

"Iie, gomen no da. I know it's hard Tasuki-kun, I couldn't believe it myself first no da. We don't know why she's here, or what brought her. I've taken her to see Taiitsukun already and she asked me to look after Mari and to train her in the magical arts no da. She's been here about two months now, which Taiitsukun thinks will leave enough time to train her for... what ever's coming no da."

"What's comin? What the fuck are ya blabbin about Chichiri? Kotou's a shitty mess an everythin's jus fine here. Dun go scarin me n sayin shits gonna happen when it ain't." Tasuki crossed his arms stubbornly and turned his head to stare out the open window at the front of the house.

Chichiri sighed and took a sip of his cooling tea. The liquid was still fairly warm though and evoked a short coughing spell that made his nose run with the fluids of being sick. How he wished Mitsuake was still around. A bad cold would be nothing more than a headache for a few hours before it could be taken away by a soothing green light. That was cruel to Marissa though, she had done a wonderful job taking care of him and he was extremely grateful. But the situation had only managed to point out to him how vulnerable they both were, when such a thing as a bad cold could be considered life threatening. If something ever happened to Marissa that he wasn't able to fix... he didn't entertain the thought long due to the chills that ran down his spine from it. She was his student... after all.

But the immediate issue was convincing Tasuki, who for all his great deeds, was still a thickheaded idiot when it came to accepting facts. "You'd have to ask Mari no da," Chichiri confessed, taking another long sip of his tea.

"Ya sayin that chick can read the future? She looked ordinary ta me. I think she's pullin yer damn leg Chiri, ya know how them girls are, makin pretty eyes atcha an'runnin after ya jus for the fame, waitin te go back home s'they can brag bout how they had a Suzaku shichiseishi..."

The sound of a clay cup being set down heavily on the table stopped Tasuki in the middle of his tirade.

"Don't ever, say that about Marissa." The words were harsh and low, barely masking his irritation, but he couldn't stop them no matter how much his own voice was unnerving him. "I've been inside her mind Tasuki. She has never lied to me in all the time I've known her, never once has she denied her knowledge when she could have done so and left me and the rest of the world ignorant of the future she knows is coming. Marissa is the most honest, courageous, passionate girl, woman, I have ever known, and if I ever hear you say anything like that about her again I will use my kasa and drop you in the middle of the ocean."

Not even a cricket chirped in the quiet that followed. Chichiri's eye was riveted on Tasuki, who sat staring back in surprise at the monk's uncharacteristic outburst, a light shade of pink spreading across his cheeks. It was only after a whole silent minute had passed that the wood burning in the fire gave a loud pop and Tasuki's expression changed to amazement. "Sumanu, Chichiri, I didn know."

Choosing to ignore the out of place reaction on Tasuki's face the monk sighed and rubbed his runny nose. "It's ok no da."

"But ya know," the bandit grinned, managing to switch gears only the way Tasuki could. "I neva heard ya say 'no da' once durin tha whole speech. She mus' really mean sumthin to ya."

The vaguest feeling of a blush creeping over Chichiri's cheeks made him desperately wish for his mask more than ever at that moment. He coughed, hoping it didn't sound as forced as it felt, and turned his face away to cover his mouth. "She's my student no da," he replied. "Of course I have to look after her no da."

"Really na," Tasuki mused, stroking his chin uncharacteristically. "She wasn' bad lookin or nuffin, an I know this great lil' bar over n the city, with free rooms for payin customers..."

Chichiri straightened his back unintentionally, his muscles tightening. "I don't think she'd go with you no da."

"Hey, a girl like her needs a break after'll she's been through. Lil' sake neva hurt anyone, an a liquor'd up woman is a fun n unpredictable thing."

"I would have to disagree Tasuki-kun."

This was going better than he'd hoped. Chichiri had lost his no da's again and was definitely looking like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle Tasuki for even making such suggestions. Raising his eyebrows Tasuki let the last bomb drop. "Then again... if she's already taken, ya got nuthin te worry bout, ne?"

The look that crossed Chichiri's face after that was priceless and Tasuki wished he had that device Miaka carried around while she was here that managed to capture everyone's image from a single moment in time. Like a child that had just been caught stealing sweets from the candy jar, or a grown man suddenly having his inner feelings thrust into the spotlight, either way it was hilarious and Tasuki couldn't hold back the laughter he'd been restraining up until now.

"Baka!" he chuckled, throwing back his head. "I dun even like women! If ya could see the look on yer face, oh man, Chiri ya got it bad with her."

Chichiri managed to pull himself together and force away the blush on his cheeks to give Tasuki a stern look. "Uresai no da! Do you want to wake her up no da?" And just to pull himself away from this embarrassing conversation he stood up and pulled open the inner door, peeking into the room to make sure that Marissa was still asleep.

"Suman suman," Tasuki chortled, snorting in his effort to blanket his laughter.

"What are you doing in this part of the country anyway no da?" he asked after shutting the door behind him, hoping to steer the conversation away from something so close to his heart.

"Ah, oh that. Kouji n th' guys convinced me ta do some travelin. Went ta ma mom's place, checked our holdins round the mountain, an heard tha you'd been seen so I decided te stop by an find ya fore I wen'anywhere else."

Chichiri sat down at the table while Tasuki spoke, sipping at his tea contemplatively. "Where else were you going no da?"

"No place," Tasuki admitted ruefully. "Was thinkin mebbe goin ta th'palace, givin ma regards te th'empress an baby n stuff."

"Mmm," Chichiri nodded in thought, his blue bangs bobbing with the motion. "I suppose going to Eiyou would be a good idea na no da, demo..." he trailed off, his eye sliding towards the closed door. "I'd rather ask Mari first no da. If we're supposed to be going anywhere, she would be the one to know no da."

Tasuki rocked back on his seat and gave Chichiri a long look. "Ya honestly believe her then na?"

"I do no da." Chichiri set down his empty tea cup and stifled a short coughing spell.

The red head looked about to cut in with a sly remark, but then closed him mouth and began tapping his fingers impatiently on the table. "So wha's gonna happen in the future then, Chiri?"

His brow creased in thought, Chichiri tried to recover all the pieces he could gather that might answer Tasuki's question, and at the same time clear up the situation in his own mind. "To be honest I'm not sure no da. She's said that there's to be a battle sometime soon, soon enough that she wanted to be trained in the magical arts to prepare herself to fight in it no da. When... we've used telepathy no da, I've seen flashes in her memory, images of the fighting." He couldn't bring himself to explain any more than that. To reveal too much would be laying open his soul again and Marissa had already seen too much, felt too much from him. He no longer knew what had been his feelings and what had been hers in that intimate moment.

"Geeeez," Tasuki muttered. "So what th' fuck are we waiting here for? Lets go find the evil bastards an kick their asses 'fore they get th'chance to mess up our lives again!"

"It's not that easy, Tasuki-kun." Chichiri sighed. This was like speaking to a five year old, with both a short attention span and a bad temper. "If we change the future, it could cause more damage than good no da. I think Marissa knows this and that's why she hasn't told me or Taiitsukun exactly what's going to happen no da."

Tasuki stared back at the monk disbelievingly. "We jus sit here n wait for them to attack us then!?"

"That's the idea no da."

"Fuck this," Tasuki grumbled and stood up.

"Matte, Tasuki-kun, its not worth leaving over no da..."

"Na Chiri, ya got any food? I'm fuckin starvin!"

A sweatdrop fell down the side of Chichiri's head at Tasuki's unexpected request. Then again, that was exactly like the wing symboled seishi wasn't it? Chichiri chuckled and stood up as well. "Hai Tasuki-kun, I'm sure we have something no da."

* * * * * * *

Marissa woke up sluggishly, stretching out on the warm bed, feeling her toes curling in happiness from resting for so long The aches from her shoulders and back were completely gone, a fuzzy warmth having spread from her stomach outward that made her feel like she'd been sleeping for days. She never wanted to lift that damned kettle again.

Her lips curved upward in a smile still drugged with sleep, but her mind was waking up and dragging the rest of her body with it. How long had she been asleep anyway? Curiously she opened her eyes and found them staring at darkness speckled with silver light. Wearily she brought up a hand from under the covers, feeling the cold air hit her hot skin, and rubbed the sleep out of each eye. When she looked again the wooden ceiling met her gaze, giving off a subtle blue-white glow that seemed to grow stronger towards her right.

Rolling over she looked out across the floor to the opposite wall, seeing a bright swath of silver light hitting the open window sill inside the room. Outside she could barely hear the sounds of the night, crickets chirping and the trees rustling as the wind blew by under the gaze of the nearly full moon. It was all quite romantic, save for the strange chocking sounds that were coming from the opposite side of the room.

Curiously Marissa pushed up on one elbow and strained to make out the shape laying across the way on the floor. Spread limbs, dark messy hair, and a snore annoying enough to wake dead. It seemed Chichiri had put up Tasuki for the night. But then where was he?

Quietly she slipped out of bed, a shiver passing through her body at the cool air which hit her unexpectedly. Wondering why the window had been left open during such a cool night she tiptoed across the room and gently closed the shutters. There was no more incoming chill, but now she'd managed to cut off the only light source. _Good going Mari._

Desperately hoping to not fall prey to a klutz attack she slowly inched her away across the wooden floor, using Tasuki's snores to judge her distance from the sleeping bandit. With palms stretched out she finally felt her hand smack the wall, then began searching for the latch on the door. It took a little longer than she expected since it seemed she'd actually come to the wall far to the right of the door, but finally her seeking fingers found it and she lifted it noiselessly, thankful for all the time she'd spent in the house learning how to avoid the noisemakers.

She slipped into the main room, surprised at the sight before her. "Chichiri, what are you doing up?"

He was sitting by the hearth again, though this time thankfully in a chair and not on the floor, but without anything on except the clothes she had dressed him in a few days before. Arms crossed over his chest he appeared to be in deep thought, but his eye was open and watching the dancing orange flames in the pit. At the sound of her voice he looked up, a faint hint of guilt drifting across his features. "Ah, Mari-chan, gomen I didn't know you were awake no da."

"No it's ok," she responded, dragging a hand through her sleep messed hair self consciously. She glanced about the room, taking in the fact that the table was clean and there was a pot of something hanging next to the fire though not over the flames. Yawning she scratched her side and wandered over to the hearth. "You guys made dinner?" she inquired, peeking into the pot.

"Hai no da. Did you want some?"

She nodded and searched around for a bowl, but was surprised when Chichiri rose up and produced one out of thin air, ladling up some of the fragrant smelling soup for her. Taking the full bowl he offered into her hands she blushed at his unexpected thoughtfulness. She watched him return to his chair by the fire before sitting down at the edge of the table closest to him, studying him for a moment under her lashes before taking a sip of the soup. "Mm, Chichiri this is wonderful, thank you."

He didn't look at her but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "Tasuki actually made it no da. He called it a secret bandit recipe, but I think his mother taught it to him no da."

Marissa giggled and took a heartier spoonful into her mouth. "Well, it's delicious either way." The sounds of the deep spoon hitting the bowl and the crackling fire were all that existed for a few minutes. The heat from the flames were quickly warming up her left side and Marissa felt her body trying to succumb to the urge to fall back into bed while she was feeling this warm and sedated. But she fought back the yawns and drained her soup bowl, setting it down gently on the table.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked softly, not feeling up to disturbing the peaceful moment they were sharing.

He nodded, but the shiver that zipped through his body was not lost on Marissa and with a sigh she stood up, causing Chichiri to lift his head in silent question. She circled around the table and picked up the blanket she had seen discarded on the bench earlier, then walked up behind him and held both ends open in silent command. Without protest he sat up straight and allowed Marissa to drape the blanket around his shoulders, the smirk on his face going unnoticed by her while she bent over to tuck the ends down his sides in the chair.

When she straightened up and pulled the remaining ends over his shoulders, she was startled to feel his hand come up and rest over hers. "Thank you, Marissa."

She smiled and gave and offhanded shrug. "No biggie. You saved my life once, brewing tea was the least I could do in repayment." Her hand started to pull away, but again she was surprised when she felt his larger one tighten over hers. "Chichiri...?"

His thumb slipped under her palm, catching her hand in a firm grip between his fingers. He gave a gentle tug and pulled her around from the back of his chair to stand in front of him, lifting his chin to stare up at the blushing girl. "I meant thank you, for more than just that."

The look he was holding her with was unnerving, orange firelight dancing through his brown eye that seemed both empty and full at the same time. It wasn't like any way he'd looked at her before and it scared her that she couldn't read anything in that gaze. Confused by her own reaction to his huskily spoken words she tugged her hand away from his and sat down on the bench next to his chair, threading her fingers together in her lap. "I don't know why you're thanking me. It was your own fault it happened."

That had been harsh. She watched him draw back out of the corner of her eye and felt the guilt seeping in. "Why did you do it?" she asked quietly. She knew he knew what she was speaking of by the slight sag of his shoulders, the barely audible sigh that escaped his thin lips.

"I don't know no da."

Marissa clenched her teeth and bit back a snort. "That's not going to work with me Chichiri, and you know that."

Instead of answering he sat up in his chair, reaching beside himself to pick up another log from the pile beside the fire place and dropping it onto the flames, watching a healthy blaze spring to life as it strove to devour the new food it had been given. "You're my student no da."

If he thought that would be a satisfying answer he was sorely mistaken. But at least he was talking, she was grateful for that small miracle. "I am," she answered, hoping to urge him forward. "But I'm also your friend Chichiri."

He sighed and passed a hand through his bangs, the blanket slipping back from his shoulder. "A certain distance must be kept between a teacher and student no da," he explained quickly.

A look of hurt passed over Marissa's face and she fought back the tremble in her voice. "Are... you saying we can't be friends?"

He looked at her sharply and she found herself held speechless by the vehement look on his face. "I would never say that, Marissa. If you hadn't been here I would have died on that road because of my own stupidity no da. Don't ever think I don't want you as a friend."

Marissa nodded numbly, the real reason behind all this still weighing heavily on her mind. Slowly she slid forward on the bench and reached out to lay her hand over the one that was resting on his knee. "Please tell me why you did it," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper, as though she feared he might run away from her like a scared animal. "I care for you a lot Chichiri... you don't know how much it hurt me, to see you doing that to yourself."

"Gomen, Mari. I never meant to hurt you no da. Believe that."

Suddenly nervous she bit down on her lower lip, voicing the question she had been dreading to ask. "Was it something... I did?"

Unexpectedly his hand turned over and snatched hers in a crushing grip. She looked up startled, then let out a cry when his face descended on hers and sealed her lips with a breathtaking kiss. It was quick but passionate, a tingled explosion of nerves all centered on one point on her body, soft and hot and painful and wonderful all at the same time. A dizzying tremble shook through her body a second before he pulled back, her lips feeling deliciously abused and swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

He released her hand and pushed it towards her, turning to look back at the fire. "Go back to bed, Marissa. You got your answer."

Shakily she rose from the bench, too dazed and surprised to question or protest. With hurried steps she fled back into the bedroom, dropping on the bed and curling up while one hand reached blindly for the blankets that had been tossed towards the end of the bed. When they were yanked up around her shoulders she shut her eyes, unsure of whether she wanted to laugh or cry. "I didn't mean for it to be like this..." she whispered to the dark room, while the sounds of the night only grew louder, and Tasuki's snoring faded away into the backdrop of fitful sleep. 


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14:

The dishes had been put away and the soup hung lukewarm over the fire. The table was cleared of the medicines that had lain upon it for days and the floor swept clean of the mud that had been tracked in by several pairs of feet. One window open, the other closed, letting fresh cold air trickle its way into the room and feed the fire the glowed warmly in the stone hearth. A smell of chicken broth laced with spices and vegetables permeated the small room, leaving the tongue to salivate and the stomach to rumble in remembered satisfaction of a good meal. There were no sounds save that of the crackling fire, popping unexpectedly as the flames consumed a piece of green wood, though those moments were few and far between. It was an atmosphere meant for contemplation, thoughts coaxed forward from the recesses of the mind to come to the forefront, where they may be turned over and studied under closer scrutiny. The mind now both the scientist and the experiment, containing the logic reasoning and the unexpected variables that needed to be sorted and placed away in memory for future reference, dual roles that no other situation is capable of reproducing.

It was in this deep state that Tasuki left Chichiri in, wishing his goodnights to the monk and promising not to snore too loud for Mari-chan's sake. A faint nod was the single reply he received and it took all of the bandit's restraint not to throw out a couple of words that might plunge Chichiri's thoughts into embarrassing and probably unfamiliar water. This was the man's time for thinking, not the smiling monk, and respectfully Tasuki chose to end the night's reunion with only an oyasumi nasai. He could tell by the few times that he tried to steer the conversation towards the sleeping girl in the next room that she was a delicate subject with the other remaining seishi. That she was his student he had gathered from the first words out of Chichiri's mouth; that she was his friend, a statement made strongly clear by his earlier outburst; and that she was perhaps something more, a feeling that Tasuki got whenever he ventured too close to matters of the heart during their conversations. It would be interesting to see what the morning might bring.

Slouching wasn't something that Chichiri would normally do, but the gentle warmth of the fire and the inward state of his mind forced his body to relinquish the rigid posture it usually held and let himself slide down in the wooden chair, ankles crossed and hands clasped resting over his stomach. Chin nestled comfortably on top of his chest and single eye watching the dancing flames, he was the perfect depiction of a man that would continue to sit and think through the worst natural disaster. Emotions subtly played over his face but catching their passing was difficult and brief. A face too long accustomed to passive indifference, solemn features that were trained to soften the appearance of his scarred eye. To smile, grimace, or frown would draw attention to the moving muscles that shifted under his scars, the eyes of the observer drawn away from paying attention to stare unabashedly at his deformity.

That's what it was really, a deformity. Not one that was given by birth, but by action. Normal people weren't scarred like this. Soldiers wounded in great wars came back with missing limbs and battle scars to show their family and frighten the village children with, a reminder of how close they had come to dying. It was a symbol of life and its regenerative properties, how a life could be spared by the gods but in return the body would forever carry evidence of that brush with death. Normal, good people didn't have scars like he did. Only those who were branded for their crimes, scars of the whip, chains, knife, a tattoo sketched painfully into the skin to tell the rest of the world of the crime that had been committed. If those horrid displays made people cringe in terror or turn around and walk the other direction, they were right in doing so. 'This man is dangerous,' those scars said. 'He's a murderer, a killer, a sadist, a creature not worth breathing the same air as you!'

Sighing, Chichiri brushed a hand over his face, rubbing away the moisture that had slowly collected in his eye, finger tips gently brushing over the familiar raised skin that touched the top of his nose. The faint sting in his heart was there that always accompanied these thoughts. Even after years of hearing them echo in his mind the numbness he wished for just wouldn't come. They still hurt in their truth. Circumstances or not, he had led to the death of his two best friends. And the worst part about it, the fact that ate away at his conscious and gave him sleepless nights of morose wondering, was that it wasn't their deaths that he mostly regretted; but that he never got to know the truth. The one thing that might have set him free.

When he tried to collect his memories of the whole mess they seemed disjointed and unclear, like a part of him was struggling to suppress them, while another was trying to keep them alive to always remind him of his actions that led to their deaths. He had adored Koran his whole life, him and Hikou both, she was their little sister but also their equal, someone to protect and play with and laugh along with. Not until he was 17 and considered a marriageable age did he begin to see her in a new way. Koran had grown beautiful with maturity and Houjun had found himself growing more and more attracted to her, parts of his mind and body awakening to the blossomed woman before him. With the realization of his love his parents had immediately sought to solidify their joining. It had begun that day, he at Koran's house, elated at her parent's agreement to their marriage. On his way home to tell his family he'd run into Hikou and couldn't help but spill the news to his best friend. Excited and spurred on by Hikou's good wishes he'd gone home, told his family, only to be handed a family heirloom by his mother to give to Koran. A hairpin of exquisite beauty, his mother confessed to having always wanted to give Houjun's childhood friend the piece, knowing that it would look beautiful on her the day she got married.

His memories began to fall into their normal routine, moments being brought back to life, the story spinning itself out without his help anymore. Back to Koran's house, impatient and excited, wanting to see her smile when she saw the gift. Not home, having taken a walk with Hikou. Searching, walking, so happy, and then... to see them. Embracing. Hiding behind the tree, not even feeling the hashi fall from his fingers, watching Hikou hold her, her pressing to him, feeling the shock and heart ripping pain... Running home blindly, locking himself in his room, crying and crying all night, to awake to the sound of rain falling steady and hard. The threat of flooding came so quickly, never a moment to confront Hikou or Koran, in two days they were getting ready to move and Houjun was sent to retrieve his future bride from her home. Hope, blind hope that perhaps he had been wrong, that they'd been merely playing with him. And Koran, shrieking at the sight of him, falling to her knees and cowering in her sleeves, speaking between sobs the words that ripped the final pieces of his heart.

A knife laying atop the desk they wrote on together, sharp from decoration and unuse, running, running with rage through the rain. Hikou, coming back to Koran's house, no! Not this time, this time you won't have her! Yelling, chasing after him, Hikou backing away, moving closer to the swelled river. A blind swipe, seeing bright red ooze from the cut on Hikou's arm. The sight of having actually drawn the blood of his best friend holding him in shock long enough for Hikou to knock away the blade and grab hold of his wrists. Anger rising again at being restrained and denied a weapon. 'Give her back!' he had yelled, watching Hikou's face dawn with understanding. But no explanation, no words came from his lips. A step back too far, the mud giving way, finding the wind knocked out of him as he fell hard to the earth, one hand still clutched tightly by his friend.

'Houjun!' he had cried, desperately, remorsefully, clutching at his lifeline, and in that moment Houjun had forgiven his best friend. He pulled and pulled so hard, but the river was so fast, and then the log came out of no where. Pain so intense speared through his skull, feeling the hot blood covering his face, tasting the copper on his tongue, and the last sensation left to his awareness of Hikou's fingers slipping through his grip. Not only had he led to the death of his best friend, but he hadn't even given him the chance to explain. Neither from Koran, who had left with her fleeing family, only to have their wagon swept away into the water by the final deluge. The destruction of his own home and those in it he had learned about after waking up in the village healer's hut, the floods long since passed and the bodies that were found buried. He'd never had a chance to hear them explain why.

That was where the shame came from, the guilt of his actions. To have been consumed so utterly by his emotions to the point of blind rage and near madness. Never once in his life did the possibility of such anger seem possible, never once had he felt such hurt and betrayal to warrant the same reaction. Perhaps that was why, the first time being subjected to that much pain made it all the worse. To have the two people you loved most in life suddenly turn around and throw your feelings back in your face. No, it wasn't their fault. There had to be a reason for what he saw. But he had been such a stupid, overreacting teenager that he'd never even let them come to him and explain. Instead he'd picked up a knife and gone after his best friend. How could he have been so stupid? Because of him his family had delayed leaving, thinking he was too ill to be moved. Because of him Koran had gone with her own family and died. Because of him Hikou drowned in the river. Because of him, the three of them would never grow old together like they'd promised.

Chichiri groaned quietly and shut his eye, feeling the onset of tears wanting to spill forth. It always went like this, the guilt and anger turning into sadness and depression. Several deep breaths later the tight clenching in his chest had subsided somewhat and he pushed himself upright in the chair, now feeling hot and oppressed under the heavy wool blanket. He rose slowly, feeling his legs protest after being stretched out in the same position for so long. Dropping the blanket on the bench he walked over to the open window, peering outside into the dark night. The stars were out and shining like jewels, perfectly clear all the way down to the edge of the horizon, not a single wave of heat distorting the air. The sky was completely empty of clouds, such a strange site to see after so many days of rain. The grass, trees, the air, everything seemed to sparkle with an ethereal silver from the glowing moon that had just risen. He couldn't be sure how long he had been sitting there thinking, probably hours by the position of the moon and the low burning fire.

Not surprisingly he wasn't tired in the least. He had Marissa to thank for that, her care of him and adamant attitude of him getting plenty of rest had created a lot of excess sleep time. He could afford to pull an all nighter tonight if he chose to. Yet to do what, continue to be haunted by his demons of the past? It sounded like the lame man's excuse for solitude, but that was usually the way of things for him. They seemed to be coming on strong tonight, though Chichiri couldn't blame them. He'd been suppressing them for so long, throughout all of their adventures as seishi and now during his new role in life. However if he was going to be truthful with himself a better way to put it might be that someone else was suppressing them for him. There hadn't been one sleepless night after Marissa had come. Too worried and concerned about the injured girl, too focused on her lessons, too aware of her presence to think of much else, especially about the deaths and unanswered questions that weighed so heavily on his soul.

"Yer too damn serious," Tasuki had muttered at one point during their conversation. Inwardly smirking Chichiri had to admit that phrase summed him up pretty well. Though that one comment Marissa had made awhile ago seemed to beat them all hands down. "You Gemini's, you're always two completely different people." He hadn't known what Gemini meant at the time but after an explanation he was almost glad to admit that his birth sign from her world described him better than most people realized. The chibi smiling monk, and the serious wizened man. Two extreme opposites that one would never think to find together in the same body.

Both sides were completely him, two aspects of the same person. Not many knew of his childhood antics as a boy, the laughter he could evoke from the villagers just from running around like a creature half his normal height. He was a favorite of many, able to be all smiles and jokes one moment, then a studious and thoughtful youth the next. Two sides to the same coin. As he'd grown older the looks he'd received from his peers and the adults caused his childish antics to nearly come to a stop, except those few times while with his two best friends. They had always understood him and loved him for both personalities that he possessed. In return for their love and understanding he could always make them laugh one minute, or follow along in a serious discussion the next, the perfect companion.

Out of the seishi it seemed not one had really come to understand him. He wouldn't be surprised if they had all thought his playful nature was entirely an act. Even Tasuki, the only other remaining survivor, still seemed lost when it came to Chichiri's dual personalities. They had all called him weird at first, both for the mask and the antics, but in the face of danger most first impressions were lost to be replaced by a need to gain power. And power was something he could give them, a fact that earned him respect and an acceptance of his sometimes unusual actions. Miaka was the one exception, who always seemed to take for granted the abilities of the people that protected her, barely flinching when something new and strange appeared. If he didn't know better he might have guessed that she was behaving as though it were all a dream or a fantasy, always expecting the unexpected. The others were more realistic though and saw just how strange Chichiri really was. Truthfully they were all unique in their own way, each having probably lived through childhoods of being taunted and secluded for the powers they possessed, which formed a bond between them that their priestess was probably never aware of. But being caught up in your own battles doesn't leave much time for chatting about the past. In the end, with the miko back in her world and her soulmate soon to follow, and the souls of the seishi scattered apart once again, it was too late to bother explaining his personality to anyone.

That is until this newest oddity popped into his life. He could still remember the first time he'd gone chibi on Marissa. Her eyes had nearly popped out of her head in surprise, pushing Chichiri's playful side to spring loose and torment the poor girl for a few minutes with magic tricks and loud exclamations of, "DA!" She had been laughing nearly to the point of tears by the end, her inability to catch her breath the only reason that he was forced to stop and let her rest. Sometimes that side of him was just screaming to be let out, feeling bogged down by the constant state of seriousness that Chichiri tended to keep himself in. He was both solitary and social, each side struggling to be turned loose, and sometimes he couldn't help but let that childish side leak out and try to earn a laugh or two to appease his heart. The seishi were the first people since Hikou and Koran that he had let see that side, and now her.

Finding the need to move, as the cool breeze flowing in was quickly cooling him down from the warm cocoon he'd been wrapped in from the fire, he walked back over to the chair and sat down with a grunt, hearing the legs squeak and rattle. With hands clasped atop his thighs he listened to the sounds of the house, Tasuki's quiet snores drifting out from the other room. After a time the bed creaked sharply with movement, a young woman's body turning over while wrapped in the comfort of sleep. If he expanded his senses further he could feel her chi, a gentle pulsing warmth tinged with purple that was strongly familiar, even more so now than the orange chi that emanated from the fiery seishi. Feeling adventurous he pressed closer, though not enough to wake her, brushing against her mind with his and feeling that link spring alive which had existed between them the moment he'd tapped into her memories. It was a bond closer than anything he and Taiitsukun had ever shared. She was warm and alive, dotted with bright points of dreams, interests, aspirations, and desires.

It was a beautiful painting to his senses, so full of potential and innocence. Yet beneath it he could detect a faint undercurrent of darkness, a thin line of worry and hard kept secrets. He had known it was there since the moment she arrived, the emotions associated with it only growing stronger with time. He had always attributed it to her knowledge of the future, having to keep that large of a secret from him. When they'd first met and she was still untrained he could have easily pushed into her mind and plucked out the information without her ever knowing. But now after months of training she had grown stronger, managing to put up her own protective barriers that even he would be hard pressed to get through, perhaps unsuccessful if he tried. Things had changed since then between them, and after what had happened that night a week ago he was starting to wonder what would happen if he did.

Of course he would never violate her privacy in such a way, but the curiosity was there, having grown stronger each day he'd lain in bed, reflecting over the entire encounter in his head. Their minds had touched in a way that was more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced. And Suzaku help him, she was beautiful. So bright and warm and caring, wrapping around him in an embrace that went beyond anything something physical could achieve. She had shared his pain and openly poured out her care for him, shocking him all the way to his core by the sheer quantity of emotions he had felt. All for him. Why in the four gods names should such a wonderful woman feel that for him? Him of all people. It was overwhelming and unbelievable and completely crazy. But what scared him most of all, was that he wanted to believe in it.

He realized that now. The reasons behind the question he had asked her while they were connected, the curious nature he'd always possessed awakening at the prospect of a challenge, a mystery asking to be solved. One part of him, the sick feverish part that was struggling for control had been dreading the answer she might give, afraid of it being too much too soon, of having his heart exposed in a moment when he couldn't control it. Another part of him, suddenly curious, almost flirty, replied with words that could easily be interpreted one way or the other, a part of him hoping she would see them truthfully. Yet what was the truth? He wasn't even sure he knew that himself, so how could he hope that she would view them a certain way? All he had known at that moment was that he wanted to hear something badly, a confession of sorts, a reason explaining how she could be so kind to him yet ask for nothing else in return.

But she had pulled away from him, ripped out of their connection, and that undercurrent of apprehension had suddenly flared to life with emotions so powerful they left a blazing trail in her fleeing wake. That confused him most of all, of why she should associate her thoughts about the future with her feelings for him. And what feelings were those? He considered them friends, teacher and student, roommates, companions, and confidants... up to a point. There was always that, the unspoken barrier between them; she for her knowledge of the future, he for his deeds of the past. But what if those barriers didn't exist? Somehow, hopefully, Chichiri wondered if things might have been different.

A moment to be honest with himself, he was a man of truth and knowledge after all. What exactly were his feelings towards her? What were those answers that Tasuki had been so curious to pry out of him? Marissa wasn't beautiful, but she was pretty in her own way, vivid brown eyes that tended to speak volumes more than her lips ever could. Ah her lips, those had been an interesting observation point to Chichiri on more than one occasion, he was a man after all. Full and pouty and always a healthy color of dark pink, often pulling back into a wide smile that lit up her entire face, making it hard for him to resist returning the expression. He'd encountered his share of beautiful woman, many of them living within the walls of the Emperor's palace, but somehow the simple homespun look that Marissa seemed to have adopted so easily appealed to him more. It was just like him, rugged, functional, proclaiming herself an adventurer and a hard worker.

There were other things beyond her physical self that managed to warm his insides just by recalling them. Life just seemed so much more... hopeful, with her around. Each day more promising. It was the unknown, not sure what the day might bring while having someone else there to share it with and make it different. She was intelligent, a great conversationalist, determined, fun, but sometimes a complete mystery to him. She was extremely knowledgeable about some things, the stars for instance, yet absolutely clueless about others, like bartering and making teas. She knew everything about the Suzaku seishi, right down to the characters of their names, but didn't know of more than two cities in Konan. The best part about their relationship was that there always seemed to be something they could teach each other, yet they knew each other as intimately as... as...

Dampening a blush at the term Chichiri's mind had been almost too eager to use at describing his and Mari's relationship he shifted his position in the chair, reaching up after a moment to scratch at a bothersome itch on his jaw. The action reminded him again of the fact that he hadn't worn his mask the entire time he'd been ill. He didn't remember it falling off, though overall he couldn't recall much from that night, save for their brief encounter of the minds. Beyond the seishi she was the first he had allowed to see his face uncovered. It was always a tool for him to bring out his serious side, making others realize the gravity of his words just by holding them in a solid gaze with one eye. With her however, and he was almost embarrassed to admit this, his mask had not always been off during times of seriousness. It was hard not to fall into a comfortable routine while living with someone, barriers got dropped and excessiveness gets replaced by laziness. Over the past few months he'd found himself rising in the morning and not automatically reaching for the article of disguise, a realization that made him both nervous and elated. Glad that she was so comfortable around him to never warrant him needing to put on the mask, nervous because it was the first time in 4 years he'd found himself not needing it.

He'd worn it in the first place for the Nyan who'd been frightened from seeing his scars, a painful reminder to him of Koran's own shriek when he'd entered her house on that final day. Frightening little girls was not what he had intended to do in life so he took advantage of the cheerful cover, finding that people preferred a smiling mask to a horribly disfigured face. The seishi he had been more open with, but the embarrassment of his scars and the silent questions everyone had about them encouraged him to keep up the smiling monk persona as long as he could. He was grateful for the cover, having lived with his scars exposed to the world for three years, wandering from town to town, feeling the guilt inside him sharpen whenever someone curious asked about their origins. But in complete contrast to nearly everyone else he had met, Marissa had never once asked about their origins. He had a sneaking feeling now that she might well know where they came from, though how specifically he could not be sure, for if anyone was to know the whole truth he was sure they would denounce him as a friend immediately. So obviously she didn't know everything. Yet because she had never asked he'd had no reason to tell the story, and for that he was grateful. It made him more comfortable around her. They weren't strangers meeting on a dusty road, or destined warriors thrust together to fight a common enemy - they were friends.

Hearing himself say that again brought a long forgotten warmth to his chest, a feeling of happiness at a realization that hadn't made a connection until that moment. They were friends, weren't they? True, close, bonded, trustworthy friends. He hadn't had anything like that since Hikou and Koran, 7 years without anyone who knew him inside and out, who could finish his thoughts for him and understand his jokes. Someone who accepted his personality without batting an eye, who didn't take his powers for granted, who saw him as a man as well as a warrior. A person who, for a small amount of time, could make him forget that there was a world outside the walls they sat inside. With her he could forget his destiny and his duties and free himself, if only temporarily, from the burdens that were constantly nudging at his consciousness. It was something he hadn't realized he'd been missing until she came.

An unnamable void that had existed in his heart up until now suddenly seemed to fill, spilling over with the combined emotions that he was feeling and those she had shown him. She gave and gave so much to him, never asking for a single thing in repayment. If she wanted something she sought out to achieve it on her own, an adorable trait about her that he found both amusing and frustrating sometimes. He had wanted to help her since the moment she approached him at the pond, meekly asking about learning magic. To help her achieve her goals and see her smile with accomplishment was an image that made his heart beat with pride and happiness. It all came back to that question again. _Try me..._ What was it she wanted from him? What was it she couldn't say? He had to know now because he wanted to give it to her, anything she desired, just to make her happy and keep her by his side. She was something he couldn't lose, a ray of light in his life, something he didn't deserve but couldn't push away. Because... because he loved her.

It was like having cold water splashed over him, the startling realization making his head spin uncomfortably. Clenching his hands atop his knees he fought to slow the quickened pace of his heart, wondering why his chest felt so warm when his stomach felt so cold. A strong feeling of dread trying to smother down his sudden happiness. It was the feeling of having one burden lifted only to be replaced by another. He knew the reason why, the same one that wrapped around his heart in a layer of indifference and always whispered reason when he began to question his life. Whatever he might feel, however much he might love someone, he would never be worthy of the return of those feelings. He had committed murder. He was a servant to his god and a warrior of the people, his first duties were to them, not to himself. For the rest of his life he was destined to pay his repentance to the people of this world, whether they were aware of it or not.

Briefly he wondered how Tokaki and Subaru had done it, been able to find happiness and peace in each other while still fighting to keep their country safe. Even after their miko had gone back there was always more to do, people to protect, villains to fight, monsters to exterminate, children to teach. A seishi's job was a life long commitment. Perhaps none of the other warriors would have considered their duties as exactly those tasks, but Chichiri realized they had to be done and at the moment there was no better choice for the job than himself. He had no family to return to, no previous life to take up again. Those he had bonded with among the seishi were dead, gone, or snoring in the next room busy thinking about their own lives. The sad reality was that his life had purpose, but it had no meaning.

And now this with Marissa. She was beautiful and innocent, dropped into their world without warning and bearing news that a terrible future was looming on the horizon. She had never asked to be part of this or suddenly burdened by the knowledge she had accepted as something common in her world. What she did not need right now was the love of a man who could never be more to her than a friend, who was destined to be ripped from her life as surely as Tamahome's had been torn from Miaka's. His heart had pained in sympathy with each of their battles to stay together, so close but still unable to win. He could only hope that Taiitsukun's words had been true and they would find each other in her world and return one day for the memory globes that were safely scattered between the seishi. Never on his life would he burden someone so important to him with that pain. The pain of permanent separation, the loss of not only a friend, but a lover.

He knew that pain, could still remember it even now. The loss of his friends had been the most deeply cutting pain of all these past years, though losing his first love had been the most devastating loss in the beginning. But as the years passed his pain over losing his fiancé had reshaped into the pain of losing his two best friends, both whom he cared equally deep for. It wasn't puppy love this time though, emotions running high and an 18 year old boy answering to the call of his body and what was familiar to his heart. Marissa was raw and different, comforting and enjoyable to be around without years behind them as a foundation. These feelings were new, not better than what he had before, but different. He was in love with a woman not out of duty, or expectations, or because it seemed like the right thing to do. He loved her simply for her, and that made the thought of losing her all the worse.

His first loss had been dealt by a double edged sword, the same fate that would happen with Marissa if he allowed his feelings to come to light. To again lose his friend and the woman he loved, though this time in the same person. Never again would he willingly submit to that pain, or give her cause to experience it either. He cared for her too much. The distance would have to remain between them. It would hurt, though not nearly as much as it could hurt in the future if he chose to pursue it. To be her teacher and friend, loving her from a distance, watching her grow and mature, knowing that it was partly because of him that she was blossoming so well. But most importantly of all - a promise he swore on the names of his dead parents and siblings - to never again let her feel that she was losing him.

A drop in the room's temperature pulled him from his thoughts slowly and vaguely he wondered where the new cool breeze was blowing from. The soft spoken words of his name caused him to look up, only to be rendered momentarily speechless by the beautifully orange lit, bed ruffled woman that stood looking at him worriedly on the other side of the room. In that moment he knew with a dreadful certainty that if she did not go back to bed soon, he might do something they'd both end up regretting.

Next... 


	16. Chapter 15

Author's Notes: *prostrates herself before her fans* I give thee another chapter! I will warn everyone that it's a bit longer than normal, due to the fact that I wrote the last five pages before I even began chapter 14, so naturally my brain felt like putting out another full length story in front of the five pages I'd already written. Ya I'm weird, but you all love me :P  
p.s. I'm going to my boyfriend's this Thanksgiving weekend so don't expect another update too soon ;)

Chapter 15:

Along with the first light of morning a cool crispness permeated the air, sending two sleepy, late risers running for the warmth of the fireplace first thing after they awoke. Two heads swaying unsteadily on their feet, one of orange, the other of dark red, both huddled in front of the fire. Dark circles were absent but yawns were abundant, cutting short most of the snappish remarks that wanted to force their way out.

"Move over, you're hogging all the warmth," Marissa grumbled, arms crossed as she gave the seishi a nudge in the side with her elbow.

"Uresai nee-chan. Some of us ain't short enough to fit in the fireplace."

He _would_ pick on her most self conscious feature. "Go ignite yourself with your tessen."

Tasuki laughed and stamped his feet, then spun around to warm his backside. "Ya got a bad mouth on ya nee-chan. Mornin's jus ain't yer thing eh?"

Marissa shot him a hard look but she was smiling despite herself. Morning banter with a bandit was more fun than she expected. "Oh I am, but I got a horrible sleep because of some wild animal snoring in my room last night."

She had to bite back a giggle at the sight of him looking nearly like a porcupine going into defense mode. "I didn' hear a thing," he retorted.

"Those wolves howling back sure did."

A look of surprise crossed his face, before being wiped away when he noticed her barely controlled laughter. A wide grin soon followed, fangs and all, which made Marissa's stomach clench uncomfortably at whatever comeback he had in mind. "Iya. I think you an Chiri got busy an woke up th'whole damn fores"

"Ohaiyo no da!"

Tasuki winked at the brightly blushing girl before turning to the monk that had just entered through the front door. "Oi, Chiri! Where's breakfast na, I'm starving!"

"Right here no da," he answered, setting a basket full of flopping fish on the table.

Oh this wasn't good. Trapped on both sides by men she didn't particularly feel like having a chat with right now, plus the smell of fresh fish was making her more nauseated than usual. Tasuki's jeering comment had hit a little too close to home and she could feel her cheeks turning the color of the flames as the memory of last night became the center of her thoughts. "I need to get changed," she stammered out quickly. A moment to concentrate on being in the other room and she felt her body displace itself in a quick burst of chi.

Tasuki looked in surprise at the spot where Marissa had stood. "I didn know she could do that."

"Neither did I no da," Chichiri choked out, hands frozen midway through the motion of taking off his kesa.

In the next room Marissa sighed and sat down heavily on the bed. It was one of those moments when you felt like the world had changed, yet no one else but you knew it had happened. Unsure whether to blurt out the secret to make everyone else change accordingly, or keep it to yourself and let the repercussions only happen inside you. She didn't even want to contemplate what those two were thinking out there, or what questions they'd ask about her behavior, or the excuses she knew she had to come up with to keep their inquiries at bay. Why did things have to get so complicated?

It was her fault in some way. Her being here being the largest mistake of all. She was completely throwing off the timeline and the story with her presence, up to the point of forcing one of the wisest and stoical of the seishi to kiss her.

She wasn't sure if the shiver that raced up her spine was from pleasure or apprehension. How could a memory be so thrilling yet dreadful at the same time? _Because it's everything you've been trying to prevent this whole time, dim wit,_ she chastised herself. For months now she'd been fighting her own attraction to him, finding her feelings growing deeper than just a simple crush on a handsome face pinned up on her wall. He had become flesh and blood to her, no longer unattainable, a physical reality that perfectly matched her dreams of the perfect mate. Except he was off limits. Just a character in a book (though an extremely tormented, guilt ridden one) a man that only existed only on paper. She could just feel the irony trying to weasel its way in to this situation. All perfect men were either gay, taken, or in a book. It wasn't like she was particularly pretty or desirable, so what could have possibly possessed him to do such a thing?

_Why why why?_ she moaned inwardly. It was so tempting to march over, throw open the door, and point the question directly to his face. _Why did you have to do that? What could I have done to stop you, or did I even want to stop you, did you want me to stop you, or... arg!_

Marissa let her body fall backwards on the bed with a thud. This was all too much. And worst of all, he was in there pretending like nothing had happened. When she'd woken up again he was gone, a part of her momentarily fearing that he had fled the house because of what had happened. But Tama-chan had been sitting patiently at the door waiting for his master to come back, the magically inclined cat having reappeared the day after he'd disappeared into the rain. Everything was leading up to a very painful headache: her own tormented sleep, then Tasuki's joke, and now this - complete indifference to her. Well that wasn't it exactly. He was acting normal for once, which of course meant that things weren't normal, right?

_Or am I just trying to find meaning in something that was stupid and didn't mean anything to him and shouldn't mean anything to me? Ugh. But the way he looked at me..._ She sighed and closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to last night. He'd felt so warm, his eye boring into her, searching into her very soul, and that kiss! Who knew that her first kiss would be so passionate and breathtaking, leaving no chance for her to even think or react. It seemed almost unfair now as an afterthought. _He had the nerve to think I didn't want to kiss him back. Baka._

For a few more minutes she lay there, fingers loosely threaded over her stomach, letting her mind drift on a sea of questions and half completed thoughts. Her musings were interrupted though by a soft knock on the door. A muffled voice floated through to her. "Mari-chan, are you decent no da?"

Chipper, a hint of humor lingering on the 'decent' part. Yep, he was definitely acting normal. She groaned and sat up, feeling her irritation building. "No!" Let him figure out _that_ response.

One eyebrow raised she watched the closed door, listening to the shuffling on the other side, an inaudible comment being made by Tasuki around a full mouth. A moment later the sudden noise of a bowl being dropped and a cat howling in pain ripped Marissa from her thoughts. Grumbling darkly to herself she reached under the bed and pulled out her bundle of clothes. _First he goes and hurts me, now they're hurting my cat!_ That wasn't exactly true, but her mood was seeking to find excuses to grow even more upset. Quickly she stripped off her outer wear and pulled on a fresh pair of pants and one of her favorite long sleeved tunics, the fabric colored a shade of light sky blue. However the pleasure that usually came from wearing the outfit was absent this time. She felt hollow inside, but the emptiness was quickly being replaced by cold anger. Retying the bundle shut before shoving it back under the bed, she rose and combed her hands roughly through her hair, not stopping until she felt all of the tangles leave the strands. What she wouldn't give to have a mirror for once. _Just another convenience you've been forced to live without, Mari, _she reflected bitterly.

It really was drab and uncomfortable living here, no mirrors, or toilets, or bathtubs, not even a decent kitchen to cook in. She was starting to get really tired of rice and fish every single morning. But of course that's all there was to eat in this place. They had no food beyond the stores that were already here and everything they ate had to come off the land some way or another. Chichiri was a man used to the road and a harder life, but what about her? _You've just been too preoccupied ogling over him to complain before,_ she realized grudgingly. But in all honesty, this had all really felt like a dream up until now.

Magic was fun but not real, anime characters only existed on screen, magical worlds were definitely not a common happening, so obviously this was all just some crazy dream that she'd wake up from eventually. The truth was finally sneaking up on her though, she was really stuck here, and that fact struck her hard and painfully. And what hurt most of all, the worst part about everything, was that she had no clue if she'd ever get back home. No one had tried to help her get back, not even Taiitsukun, supposedly all-powerful guardian of the world. They'd all brushed her aside, calling her an "anomaly," something not even worth paying attention to while she was here. '_Let's just let it go and see what happens. So what if she dies, she's not a miko or anyone important, just another strange girl from another world who knows a bit more than the average person.' No one here would mourn over my death, just my parents and friends back home who are probably worried sick about me, but I don't even get a chance to go home like Miaka did. This is so unfair!_

Marissa could feel her sadness and frustration quickly turning into hot anger, upset at the world for keeping her here, angry at Taiitsukun for not helping her more, angry at Chichiri for putting her in this foul mood in the first place. She felt stuck and helpless and like she was being used for some higher purpose she wasn't aware of. Why else would she be here at just the right time with the right knowledge, bumping into the man of her dreams only to have him toy with her heart and lead her to believe things that couldn't be true? _Chichiri no baka!_ she felt like screaming at the wall, but instead she chose to stalk over to the bedroom door and throw it open.

If the two men were startled to see a freshly dressed, though very irritated looking woman open the inner door, they showed no sign of it. Taking a seat at the table opposite from Chichiri and as far away from both of them as she could get, she grabbed for a bowl of rice and began shoveling. She was not going to let them ruin her breakfast. Chopsticks rhythmically clinking against earthenware bowls were the only sounds for a few minutes, until Marissa lowered her dish and looked pointedly at Tasuki. The urge inside her to create conflict was growing too strong to ignore. "So who dropped the bowl?"

The red head licked a few pieces of rice from his lips and had the decency to actually look guilty. "Why'd ya think it was me?"

"If Tama-chan got hurt..." She narrowed her eyes and let the sentence trail off, hoping the words sounded as much like a threat as she hoped they did.

Tasuki bristled and looked about ready to let loose a torrent of badly thought out insults, but a throat being cleared across the table stopped him just as he opened his mouth. "Tama-chan is fine, and I think it's time to get down to business no da."

Feeling like she'd made a small victory, not to mention it appeased her sour mood, Marissa smirked at Tasuki before picking up her bowl and resuming to eat. Whatever they were going to talk about it definitely wouldn't need her input. She was the outcast after all, the unaccounted for variable. _I bet even eating these grains of rice is causing the world to change in some drastic way,_ she considered crossly.

"Mari-chan, we need your help deciding on this no da."

Chopsticks paused inside her mouth she shot a look up the table, briefly meeting the blue haired monk's masked gaze. "Why."

"Tasuki-kun and I decided it would be good to stat traveling again, but we wanted to ask you first if there's anywhere we should be going, or shouldn't go no da."

_Oh, so that's how it was. Use the fortune teller to lead you down the right path and make sure your skins get saved in the process. Since I AM the unknown factor here, of course I'd screw things up enough so that you'd miss being in the right place at the right time, but why take the risk, just ask me where to go first._ _You don't know how tempting it's becoming just to drop you off at Tenkou's lair, all nicely wrapped and ready to be eaten._ "I don't know," she answered darkly.

Perhaps Chichiri was finally sensing her angry mood because he shifted in his seat and shot Tasuki a look. "Maybe now isn't a good time then no da..."

"No, it's perfect," Marissa bit out lightly, feeling her angry mood worsen at the chipper words. "So tell me, where exactly were you two thinking of heading?" Hands folded neatly on the table, head cocked slightly to the side in curiosity, she presented a woman simply getting down to business. The clouded anger in her eyes was the only thing revealing the whole thing to be a sham.

Tasuki, being his normal, oblivious, blundering self, went right on ahead speaking. "Na, lets go ta Eiyou! Free food, warm beds, good sake, someone waitin on ya hand n'foot. I dun need 'consultin' te decide that."

Marissa was so happy she actually had a legitimate reason to say no. "We can't," she responded sweetly. "Houki... I'm sorry, the Empress, has a son who you can't meet yet."

Chichiri raised an eyebrow but Tasuki beat him to the punch. "An why th'fuck not?" His irritation was rising faster than her own and Marissa felt a rush of perverse enjoyment at making Tasuki just as pissed off as she was.

_Because you're a loud mouthed, spoiled brat, who doesn't deserve that kind of luxury from a woman as kind and as distraught as her. _The words were temptingly resting on the tip of her tongue. But she chose the quicker, more painful route. "Because I said so."

Chichiri, looking distinctly uncomfortable now, seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts to choose the right words to end this growing argument. But it was Tasuki that Marissa was focused on, the loose cannon of the group, and the easiest to piss off. He was practically seething at this point. "Who th'hell gave ya th'fuckin right ta tell us what shit ta do?"

Marissa scowled and slapped her hands palm down on the table. "I didn't ask to be here you ass. Go wherever the hell you want for all I care, I don't want to stop you any more than you want me to. The only reason I'm being included in this stupid discussion is because I know the future and you want to make sure your skins will remain intact long enough to take care of whatever "new threat" is planning to come along. Well guess what, I refuse to be used any longer. I'm sick and tired of this place and everything I know, I just want to go home!"

Slamming her fists on the table she sprung up from her seat and walked out the front door before either of them could respond, a loud bang following her departure as the door was slammed shut with a large burst of chi.

"She 'as yer ability in takin' it out 'n doors, too," Tasuki remarked with an attempt at humor after a few silent seconds had passed.

But Chichiri was silent, watching the closed door with an unreadable expression, one hand clenched atop his knee under the table. He seemed to be facing an inner struggle that was going unnoticed by Tasuki, the red head staring undecidedly at the table before picking up a bowl of rice and continuing to eat. After a full minute of silence had passed Chichiri seemed to relax and focused on Tasuki. "Lets keep going. We should plan to leave by tonight at the latest no da."

The bandit raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What about Mari?"

"She'll come back no da." _I hope_  
  
*~*~*~*~*

Later that afternoon, when a cool wind had picked up and the sun's noonday heat was waning, the front door of the cottage opened slowly to reveal the silhouette of a young woman peering inside the structure curiously. The fire was out and the table was cleared, the crates and barrels stacked neatly in the corner once again as though no one had ever lived there, let alone for nearly 3 months.

It was completely silent and deserted, save for a single figured that sat leaning against the wall in one of the small wooden chairs, a shaft of light from the window illuminating the back of his spiky hair. "Bout time ya got back nee-chan."

Marissa shrugged and stepped into the house, but the fire had gone out of her eyes and her stance, leaving her looking weary and resigned. "It seems we've moved," she remarked absently, eyes glancing around the room to confirm what she'd first seen.

"Yep." Tasuki stretched and stood up, giving the chair a kick to return it to its normal spot in the corner. "Cept when we're gunna leave, we were kinda short one person, if ya get my meanin."

Marissa paused in her investigation of the side room to see if anything was left, and turned slowly to look at Tasuki. "And Chichiri?" she asked slowly.

Tasuki's expression turned slightly hopeful. "He's waitin' in town. Said we weren't gonna leave without cha. Bookin sum rooms an getting supplies fer us I guess." He shrugged as if the preparations were beside the point. "Ya comin with us?"

Walking to the front door Marissa sighed and nodded. Tasuki made a sound of relief and ushered her out of the house, closing the door behind them. They began walking down the dirt road at a brisk walk, the bandit whistling happily. "Chiri'll be relieved," he offered up after a moment, the slight sag to her shoulders and the listless stride in her step not going unnoticed.

She seemed to not hear him, or was ignoring him, but when he opened his mouth to speak again she straightened up and turned sideways to give him a smug smile. "After all, someone has to keep you two from getting into trouble."

The fanged grin was quick to appear, amber eyes gleaming at the prospect of a challenge. "Ever fought a gian' bug demon tha liked ta suck up people's souls?"

"No, but I know you didn't either, just let Mitsukake do all the hard work."

His face fault was priceless. "Yakamashii!"

Their banter could be heard continuing down the road for miles.

*~*~*~*~*

Marissa walked slowly down the middle of the hay covered ground, hands clasped behind her back as she peered curiously inside each of the wooden gates, the flick of a long tail or the gaze of large brown eyes meeting her inquisitive stare. The stables were all indoors, a luxury for the horses in an era such as ancient China. Iron padlocks sealed each of the high doors, allowing only the heads of the taller horses to rest their chins on the gates, staring down passersby that happened to venture through. Marissa opted to keep a safe distance between herself and those more wild looking beasts. She loved horses, with their quiet strength and soulful eyes, but that meant understanding one didn't just run up to the creature and wrap your arms around it like a kitten. These animals commanded respect no matter what area of the world you came from.

She came to a stop in front of a gate placed lower than the rest, allowing the dun colored mare inside a comfortable rest for her neck if she chose to look out of her stall. The gentle curve of a tan colored back caught Marissa's eyes first, a chestnut colored tail streaked with fine strands of yellow that gave the entire thing a shine, not unlike that of freshly polished wood. It swished carelessly around the mare's hindquarters, a slightly disheveled mane falling down her neck while she ate out of the trough near the door. But it was the face that had caught Marissa's attention, a blaze of cream that shot down from her forehead to the tip of a pink nose dotted with gray, and bright, light brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with inward humor.

She smiled and walked up to the gate quietly, placing her hands on top of the fence to watch the horse inside tend to her daily needs. "Well hey there," she greeted in a high sing song voice.

The mare batted a set of long, jet black eyelashes at her, continuing to eat while she observed the human observing her. The humor of the situation was not lost on Marissa and she found herself chuckling, the fingers on her hands slowly wiggling to life with the desire to touch and feel and not just look. The mare's ears rotated and flickered at the sound of quiet laughter and soon she lifted her head, jaws still working to grind down the last of her food.

Marissa held out her hand palm up in silent offering and watched the mare look pointedly from her empty hand back up to her face before stamping a front hoof. "Oh I see how it is, you want food." Looking around she spotted a nearly empty basket a few stalls down which appeared to have vegetables tossed inside, the leafy green head of a carrot poking over the top. Stealing a glance to make sure no one else was in the stables, as being caught giving the horses extra food would probably ruin their chances of getting a good price, she scurried over to the basket and plucked out the carrot she had seen from a distance.

This time the mare perked up and immediately came to the gate, tugging at the long carrot with soft hairy lips that tickled the tips of Marissa's fingers. While she nibbled Mari took the opportunity to run her hand down the creamy blaze, feeling how the fine hair fanned out and changed directions from top to bottom. She really was an amazing creature, small but sturdy and extremely intelligent if there was anything to judge by the way her eyes were locked on Marissa while the human continued in her exploration of petting and stroking.

When the carrot was finished and Marissa felt her fingers being gently sucked on to discover any last bits of food she giggled and pulled her hand away, laying it on the mare's mane and stroking a few of the tangles out of her hair. It was then, in that quiet moment of understanding between horse and human, that Marissa felt a familiar chi enter the stables. Warm, powerful, carefully dampened, it sent an unexpected shiver down her spine and made her heart beat faster.

The mare noticed the newcomer too, for her eyes flickered over to stare at the man that had stopped a few feet behind Marissa, letting out a quiet snort. But she didn't pull away when Marissa's grip tightened slightly on her mane, the girl's back still facing the masked monk who had entered the stables alone. After a moment Marissa felt some of the tension leave her muscles, though her heart was still pounding loudly, and with a conjured air of nonchalance she began stroking the mare's muzzle. "She's beautiful isn't she?" Inwardly she cheered at the normalcy of her voice.

"She is."

The double meaning of those two simple words brought a flush to Marissa's cheeks and a pang to her heart._ No, I'm not going to turn around._ She feared and yearned for the look she might find there if she did, drawing her back to the night when that ocher eye had gazed at her with a thousand naked emotions. Would he be smiling normally again, the mask in place like it had been since? Or would it be off, opening his soul to her, allowing her to see the wound underneath that she'd come to love, every raised line that scarred his beautiful face. _What are you doing to me!?_ She wanted to shout. The desire to dive back into his mind was nearly overpowering, to work her way back to that place where they had embraced and shared their souls. No bounds to hold them back. Maybe then she could find out the truth, find out why he had kissed her and then left her to remain trapped in her own confusion, angry and hurt. It was a battle she was losing with herself. Though she would never throw herself at his feet and beg, she knew her lips were aching to say something just as forthright, to wring a confession from him and hear the real words behind his eyes that night.

Feeling the nervous tremors in her stomach work their way through to her outer limbs she ducked her head under the horse's neck and moved to stand on the other side of it, keeping one hand curved against the mare's tan cheek. She could see him now, safely obscured by the large head of her new found friend. Dressed up in all his fine attire, the way she had seen him depicted so often in her memories, both out of the books and in full animated color. The was the lines of the outfit that reminded her all too well of what lay underneath. The broad line of his shoulders, smooth biceps that spoke of quiet underlying strength, and a flat toned chest that narrowed down to... _God now I wish I hadn't seen you naked,_ she moaned inwardly.

She licked her lips and slid her eyes over to study the mare. "Are we ready to leave yet?"

"Almost. Tasuki's picking out saddles, then they'll bring them in here to fit them on the horses no da."

He took a few measured steps closer to her and approached the other side of the mare, causing Marissa's stomach to give a nervous flip and tumble. She withdrew her hand from the horse's cheek closest to Chichiri, moving to stroke it down the long muscled neck of the beast. He stopped opposite her and set his staff against the stable door, reaching out a hand to gently pat the horse's mane, long delicate fingers mixing with the tawny brown strands.

"She's very tame no da."

Marissa nodded, the bob of her head just visible over the stretch of creamy nose. "I like her, and I think she'd be perfect for me. He said we could pick any horse we liked."

It wasn't a question but the need for normal conversation was compelling, especially after what had happened that morning. _Do you forgive me?_ she wanted to ask. But that was a question that couldn't be voiced, not after everything he had done to her. She had fled the house angrily, half hoping as time went on that he would come and find her, take her into his arms and whisper comforting words, telling her how sorry he was and how much he loved her. But he'd never come, just like she had known all along that he wouldn't. The anger had quickly turned into disbelief, then sadness, then resignation, finally ending with her returning to the house like a rebuked child only to find that they'd packed up and left. Despite Tasuki's reassuring words, she still felt like a piece of luggage being brought along for her usefulness.

"He did say that no da. Mari-chan?"

She bit her lip. "Hai?"

"Do you know how to ride a horse no da?"

She let out a quiet whoosh of relieved air at the simplicity of the question. "I'm not an expert, but I've ridden them a few times, had a few lessons. I should be fine. Anyway," she smiled, giving the mare's nose an affectionate rub. "I think she likes me."

There was an unexpected silence for nearly a minute, ending when Chichiri cleared his throat uncertainly, his hand that had been petting the horse pausing in its strokes. His voice came out quiet and with badly concealed worry. "Marissa... did you mean what you said no da?"

She paused in her diligent petting as well, hand slipping from the horse's neck. "Mean what?" she asked just as softly.

"That you want to go home no da. Do you really hate it here that much?"

She couldn't find the words to answer that. Ashamed at her outburst from earlier, moved that he had even remembered them, guilty because a part of her had whole heartedly meant them at the time. Crossing her arms she stepped back from the horse, and felt a watchful gaze descend upon her like a rainstorm during monsoon season, heavy and unavoidable to ignore. Chichiri's face was turned on her expectantly, a hard stare she didn't dare try to read in to, let alone try to figure out what was really being shown behind the mask. Feeling smothered under that look she turned and fled, heading at a fast walk away from Chichiri. She'd taken a few steps when she looked up to see a blank wall a dozen feet ahead of her. Halting her feet she let her shoulders drop in embarrassed defeat. That had been smart, and rudely obvious to him that she'd been trying to run away. Though she wouldn't put it past him to have already left, the thought followed with a pang of both relief and sadness.

But a light touch on her shoulder caused her to freeze, the breath she had been taking catching in her lungs, and that warm presence of familiar chi enveloped her personal space nearly to the point of being suffocating. But it was drowning in a sea of masculine strength, wanting so badly just to let go and lean back into the feeling of being protected and wanted. Fingers tips pressed against her back that didn't demand, giving her the option to pull away if she desired, to escape the moment and deny two hearts that were still struggling to find the right words.

"Marissa" he began, and she felt his hand slip down slightly from her shoulder. "I'm sorry about what happened no da. About everything. I haven't been fair to you"

Brow furrowed Marissa turned around to face him, feeling his hand slide from her back at the movement. His masked face looked stricken, half circle eyes drooping and his mouth reduced to a tiny point. "When are you talking about?" She couldn't stop the snappish tone that leaked out with the question, feeling betrayed that he might completely ignore what had happened between them last night.

"This morning" he paused at the look on her face, hurt disbelief shining through her eyes. "And last night no da," he finished softly.

"What about them," she asked quietly, afraid that if she spoke too loud her voice might crack and let loose the tension that was building in her stomach.

"I need to apologize for my actions, both times. It wasn't right, and unfair to you." He stopped speaking when she took a step closer, though made no move to back away, his masked eyes gazing somewhere over the top of her head now.

"Please take that off." Marissa pointed to the mask, struggling to dampen the quivering tone in her voice, yet also trying to resist the temptation to rip Chichiri apart verbally in his moment of vulnerability. "If you're going to say sorry, it should be from Houjun the man, not Chichiri the smiling monk."

He sighed and pulled away the paper mask, the face underneath downcast and lips drawn into a nearly pouting frown. His eyebrows were pushed together, revealing the worry lines on his forehead that few ever got to see, and his eye was now pointedly directed towards the ground, having found the hay under their feet compelling to watch. It was ironically very adorable to see Chichiri in such an uncomfortable state and Marissa felt her heart twinge in compassion, realizing just how deep his sorrow went over this matter. Beyond her own pained heart the need to comfort his wounded soul was beginning to outweigh any other needs of her own. It was so hard to stay confused and upset when he was standing before her naked like this, willingly setting aside his method of disguise merely because she'd asked it of him. The knowledge came like a tiny beacon of light, urging her on to hear the reasons he still hadn't explained to her. "What am I to you?" she asked quietly.

If anything his expression seemed to become more pained, one hand drifting up slowly to finger a lock of hair that had fallen over her shoulder, as though she might pull back if he moved too fast. His eye watched his hand and her eyes watched his face. She would give him all the time in the world to answer that question, just to hear the answer she'd been dreaming of and trying to forget at the same time. What was the future but a story she'd read in a book somewhere, warnings she'd spoken to herself just to save her own heart from being too bruised by a man that could never possibly love again. But he was here, now, touching her, looking at her in the way she'd dreamed all her life of being looked at. Something had changed outside of her control, and it made her heart beat faster in memory of the kiss they'd shared. What woman would throw all that away just because of an irate self-made god?

And before she knew what she was doing her heels were stretching up and her lips had found his, enveloping his startled mouth in a soft kiss that she should have stopped yet didn't want to end. She kissed him slowly, eyes shut and breath held, feeling his pounding heart under the hand that she'd rested on his chest to keep her balance. He wasn't responding yet but it didn't matter, she could hear his quick intake of breath and feel the heat radiating off his body, sweet waves of red that made the tingling in her stomach drop and rest somewhere inside her lower abdomen, making her beg silently in her mind - please, please kiss me back!

Then the barest movement of his lips, an answering pull to her pushing, and she felt his hand close over her shoulder and draw her closer, head bending down to make full contact with her mouth. It was less passionate than their first but spoke volumes more, a kiss filled with want and love and the need to hold and comfort, building slowly towards an unknown pinnacle they were both wary yet curiously wanting to achieve. The light pressure of his hand settling on her waist made her shiver inside, his thumb rubbing an unguided pattern over her fabric covered skin that made the tingling suddenly turn into a molten pool of _want_.

She felt him pull back minutely after a moment, worry suddenly springing up that he was pulling away, but his lips stopped and settled against hers, each of their breaths coming out ragged and quick. "We can't do this," he whispered against her mouth.

The implications his words should have had were quickly fading as his breath mingled with her own, the taste buds in her mouth picking up on the subtle flavors carried by it. The need to taste inside his mouth was growing stronger by the second and boldly she darted out her tongue to taste his lower lip. "Then stop me," she whispered back, the low words spurred on by a desire to push him over the edge. Power through passion was an addicting though unfamiliar rush, and she was loving it.

He gave a soft groan before planting another kiss on her lips, this one harder and laced with barely controlled passion. She was caught off guard by the suddenness, melting in his hands as he tipped her head back with the pressure of his lips. But this one didn't last nearly as long as she would have hoped, for he pulled away from her suddenly and stepped back, hands releasing her and clenching at his sides.

"We can't do this," he repeated slowly, keeping his eye carefully averted from her flushed and hurt looking face. Any response she might have countered that with was cut off by the stiffening of his body, the mask back on his face faster than she could follow. "They're here no da."

Turning on his heel he strode towards the stable entrance, arriving at the end of the rows just in time to meet Tasuki and the stable owner coming around the corner, looking as though they were carrying enough bags and saddles to fit on 10 horses. "Oi, Chiri!" the bandit hollered, leading the three of them to engage in another conversation that probably had to do with payments and favors. At the moment Marissa didn't particularly feel like stretching her brain to understand what they were saying.

Hoping that her face didn't look as miserable as she felt she scampered back over to the dun mare, trying to use the horse as a cover while she dried her eyes. The mare had leaned her head back over the stall door at the sound of Marissa approaching and was now giving the girl a look of deep sympathy in her luminous brown eyes. Burying her face in the horse's mane she let the sounds of conversation fade into the background, a part of her wishing to be granted a few moments to collect herself, while another wailed over her embarrassment and loss. She was most definitely not going to start crying, no matter how badly her chest hurt or how broken her heart felt.

"You're my only friend," she whispered to the horse, ironic bitterness leaking through her words. But the horse merely flicked her ears and stood her ground, letting the human girl have her moment of remorse against her neck. 


	17. Chapter 16: In Perfect Time

Author's Note: I give you chapter 16!  It's long, and quite good, so please don't kill me for taking so long to get it out. *ducks from the flying projectiles*

I give no promises for chapter 17, but I have to say lately I've been extremely inspired by the wonderful fan art which has been coming my way for this story (hint hint).  I've posted several of them on my site with the hopes to eventually incorporate them into my reformatted chapters.  Personally I just love having a visual accompaniment while I'm reading, not to mention it actually makes my story feel more real (if that makes sense ^^)  Here is the link, and I highly recommend you go drool over them!

www. thecompendium. org/ stories/ fanart/ index.html

P.S. The link is spaced out the way it is because ff.net has a problem with uploading objects that look like urls.  And if anything in this chapter is messed up, spacing, centering, italics, etc, it's ff.net's fault again.  I've given up trying to make it happy.  Don't ask me why, I'm just a victim here too.

Chapter 16 - In Perfect Time

_You structure, you plan it, you think it out to the detail_

_But it's all held back and you can't go forward -_

_When you really need it, and the time's right, a wise one comes:_

_Then the walls of your house will be fit for you to dwell in._

Sleep wasn't coming easy to Marissa.

The sounds of the night seemed too noisy, the moonlight too bright, the bed to stiff, and her pillow smelled faintly of dirty animal hair, a fact she choose not to ponder on too long.  Her traveling companions had fallen asleep some time before, their perfectly rhythmic breathing a strange compliment to the sounds that floated through the partially open window, echoes of creatures which stirred only in the night.  The prominent hum of crickets singing their nightly chorus was gently undercut by the occasional call of a passing bird, a shrill lingering note that tickled somewhere deep at the base of Marissa's spine, making her both at once want to fly from bed to catch a glimpse of it and scoot down even farther under the blankets.  Then there were the other, manmade sounds, which were both comforting and annoying.  Intermittent bouts of snoring from one of the other pallets in the room, the creaks and groans of the building as it settled with the dropping temperature, and the faint sounds of movement a floor below as late patrons stumbled their way upstairs.  It was little wonder that her eyes refused to stay shut of their own accord.

Reflectively, she didn't blame herself for her lack of exhaustion.  Her body might have been insistently prodding to allow itself to finally get some rest, but her mind was quite awake and determined to stay that way until some sort of resolve was reached.  It felt like too much to take in all at once though, which led her running into wider circles to try and encompass everything, the center of her problems receding further and further away.  They weren't going back to the house.  Probably never again.  With Tasuki here to add an extra opinion to all group decisions, it was decided, against Marissa's continued protests, that the duo would strike out on the road once again, this time with one more person in tow.  She had tried her hardest to make them go anywhere but the capital, even resorting to threatening, albeit subtly, that they would regret going there so soon.  In the end, it was her own misgivings that made the decision.  Whatever was awaiting them there, they wanted to face it now rather than later.

The knot in Marissa's intestines intensified, morosely foretelling of a difficult day in the bathroom a day or two from now.  This stress was doing nothing but making her feel ill, so much so that she wondered if she could successfully get the seishi to postpone their journey with a tactfully made complaint into her health.  But no, in the worst case, they'd leave her behind, and then she'd be stuck in this strange world without knowing a single soul.  Her heart was eager to second that assumption, the pitifully bruised thing that it was right now; it distrusted Chichiri so much that an unbearable ache had opened up, gaping wide, right where her trust in him had once lived.  All her planning, all her inner pep talks, they had all been for naught when the real, living, breathing man had decided to worm his way into her life.  She'd been hopeful, after the first time; with his apology she'd thought for one glorious moment that perhaps it meant he was willing, that he was ready to care for her a little bit more.

Marissa bit down hard on her lower lip to fight back the lump forming in her throat that was quickly building into an outright sob.  She hadn't cried over this whole mess yet and she wasn't going to, ever.  Chichiri was a man after all.  Men liked to use women for their own devices.  Maybe after his brush with death he'd suddenly developed a need to prove his existence, and figured the only way to do it was reassert his masculinity over another human being.  _Convenient,_ she scoffed inwardly, _that I was there to assist his needs so well._  And the barn incident?  Her mind argued.  Perhaps he really had felt sorry then.  She believed that Chichiri wouldn't lie to her intentionally; he was a honest person by nature, though prone to choosing not to disclose information when he felt it appropriate.  But what had happened afterwards... purely a mistake.

_That's what it was, really,_ she admitted, turning over onto her stomach and slipping an arm under the pillow to prop it up under her head.  _He just realized it before I did.  I started it anyway.  My fault, I thought last night actually meant something, but it didn't.  People kiss all the time without it actually meaning anything, don't they?_  She frowned, realizing she could find no logical reason to refute that supposition.  It was very much a truth, just something she had chosen to ignore all her life in favor of a beautiful fairytale in the hope that she'd be one of the few to jump from being alone to having a partner for life.  But in real life things didn't work that way and she'd gotten slapped by her own ignorance.  The twisted knot in her stomach loosened somewhat with that discovery, but in its place was a disappointment that she didn't bother to hide.  _Just great.__  My first kiss, and it didn't mean anything to anyone except me._

She sighed into her pillow, shutting her eyes and letting the exhaustion of her body finally register in her brain.  Sleep might still be long in coming, but at least she wouldn't mind when it did, the promise of blissful oblivion with hopefully no blue haired men around to haunt her dreams.  Tomorrow was another day, another few minutes to think about what she was going to do about them heading to Eiyou.  They were consciously throwing off the timeline, completely aware that things hadn't happened this way before.  Therein lay her true fear, and she shuddered in her cocoon with the admission of it.  She wouldn't know what was going to happen after this.  The future would be unpredictable and once again she would be a nobody, stuck in a strange world without any reason behind her to receive the help of anyone.  She was being shoved out, denied, and left to fend for herself.  More than breaking her heart, this break of trust hurt the most.

Curling into an even tighter ball, Marissa squeezed her eyes shut and silently prayed for sleep to overtake her soon.

* * * * * * *

Despite being early morning, so much so that the clouds were still fading away from the bright pink hue they had been earlier, many people were up and about in the city, including an odd band of three travelers.  Two revered Suzaku seishi, with a young woman in tow who looked decidedly uncomfortable being with the men; or at least uninterested, as she constantly avoided their looks and answered in single syllables bordering on grunts.  However when the trio reached a set of horses hooked up at the hitching posts alongside the inn, the girl took off at a jog and embraced her animal happily.

"I'm going to go settle the bill at the Inn no da," Chichiri announced, satisfied that their transports were safe and sound.  He departed back around the side of the building, leaving Marissa and Tasuki to prepare their mounts for the journey ahead.

Smiling, Marissa stroked the mare down her neck and gave her a swift kiss on her soft pink nose.  "Good morning, Hou.  I missed you lots."

Tasuki's red head poked up from between his and Chichiri's horse a few feet away.  "Wha'd ya say?"

"I was just telling my horse good morning.  Hou likes it when people actually take the time to talk to her."  As if on cue the horse bucked her head up and down enthusiastically, eliciting a sort giggle from Marissa.

Scratching the back of his head, Tasuki raised an eyebrow suspiciously.  "Wh' in th' worl' didja name tha' horse?"

"H o u," Marissa repeated slowly, plastering on a smile as Genrou's face contorted with the struggle of comprehension.

"Bu... tha's not a damn 'orse's name.  It ain't ev'n a word!  'Ow th' hell ya come up wif sumthin so weird?"  He demanded just as Chichiri returned to where the horses were tied up.

"What's weird no da?" he chirped brightly.

With a potential new adversary against Marissa's choice for a horse's name, Tasuki suddenly rounded on Chichiri.  "Th' name she gave tha' 'orse!  Ya dun name yer 'orses 'Hou,' ya name 'em 'Lightening' er 'Thunderbolt' er 'Racer' or sum other prop'r horse name.  S'embarresin othurwise!"  Tasuki made an expressive gesture towards Mari and the mare and looked at Chichiri imploringly, as though asking for the monk to talk some sense into the girl-from-another-world.

"Hou?" Chichiri echoed, scratching at the edge of his brow contemplatively.  Behind the monk Genrou stood silently fuming at being dismissed so quickly.  "Ano, isn't 'Hou' a type of mythological lion?  I'm pretty sure I've read that somewhere na no da."

Marissa shrugged, avoiding Chichiri's gaze as she continued adjusting the packs on her horse's flanks.  "I don't know.  It just came to me last night, and she seems to like the name fine."  Blinking, Chichiri could have sworn the girl and horse exchanged knowing looks, but summarily dismissed it in the next moment.  Horses weren't that intelligent.  Chichiri shook his head and walked over to the stallion he had taken for his own.

It was true though, she had thought up the name on a whim last night while settling in for bed.  A lot of things had passed through her mind the night before, while staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of her two male companions sleeping soundly through the thin paper screen which separated their spaces.  Wondering just what she was getting herself into by allowing the two remaining seishi to set out on a journey that shouldn't happen yet.  Briefly this morning, she'd entertained the thought of flat-out revealing everything that was going to happen.  What harm could it do now that they were messing everything up?  She'd had a hard time squashing that idea.  In the end everything always turned out OK in Fushigi Yuugi, despite the horrible struggles and life changing ordeals the characters had to go through.  It was a fact she was constantly reminding herself of to stay the words that threatened to spill from her lips more and more often.

And then there was the matter with Chichiri.  Her conclusions last night hadn't prepared her for this morning, or the feelings she would endure while having to stand in the same room with him and pretend he was nothing more than someone slightly more than a stranger.  He was an unexpected friend who she hadn't realized she needed until now.  The disappearance of his companionship left her feeling very much alone, like she really was watching this through a television screen, a spectator with no bearing on the storyline whatsoever.  Then again, it wasn't exactly like she'd wanted to become part of the story.  This world existed inside a book written by a cult of girl-sacrificing fanatics that believed in magic and the spilling of innocent blood to make their wishes come true.  Everything existing here was a terrible perversion of what real Chinese mythology dictated.  So many other gods and lands had been left out, creating this tiny sphere with too little imagination to support it.  It was quite pathetic, bland, and disappointing.  

Shaking her head, Marissa smoothed out the blanket over Hou's back.  _Alright, where had those thoughts come from?_

From her place beside the mare, Marissa snuck another look at Chichiri, eyes narrowed as though trying to pierce through all the protective laying he had wrapped around himself and see through to the man underneath.  In the early morning light the scene of their imminent departure had the taste of a dream about it, where time seemed to slow down, revealing details otherwise unnoticed.  The man a few yards away slowly came into sharper focus, the rest of the world slowly falling away until his stature was the only thing filling her vision.  The golden light playing off his hair and the shadow his arm cast on the saddle as he secured the traveling packs to the horse seemed to acutely define each of his movements_.  I want to touch him, she thought, the tightening in her chest inflating like a balloon.  __I can't even look at him for long without feeling guilty, like I've tainted him somehow, ruined everything he was before.  My fault..._

Marissa tore her eyes away and let out a heavy whoosh of air, shoving those guilty feelings away to a deep recess that would only surface at night when she could ponder them in peace.  Time enough to think about her guilt between traveling and puzzling out what she was going to do about this shift in the timeline.  She was slightly reassured by the imaginary safety-net she knew existed, that intermittent span of time before any decision became critical.  Until Miaka and Taka arrived, she had all the time she needed to solve this mess and make sure Tenkou got defeated without so much suffering and bloodshed.

Cinching down the last strap she glanced around the small holding area, taking in Tasuki and Chichiri finishing up their own preparations.  Straightening her shoulders she walked towards the two seishi.  "Do we have everything?" she called out.

Chichiri took a moment to silently survey the insides of his packs before turning to the redhead.  "Tasuki-kun, did you remember to get those loaves of bread no da?"

A muttered, "Kuso!" floated back through the row of horses after a moment.

Marissa quickly held up her hand as Chichiri turned to reach into a saddlebag.  "Don't worry, I got it."  She rattled the small coin purse tied at her waist and took off at a brisk walk.  Normally she would never jump on the opportunity to take a walk through an unfamiliar city, but right now being alone with Chichiri while Tasuki performed his errand was nothing something she was dying to experience.  Rounding the corner of the inn she kept walking past the two story structure, relying on her memory of the city to guide her towards the market place a few streets over.  The stalls were always open early in the morning, which might unfortunately land her in the morning buyers' rush hour.  She picked up her pace.

Two left turns and one right turn later Marissa found herself facing a dismal alley that looked decidedly not like the way to the market place.  Chewing on her lower lip and casting a glance around for any suspicious figures (she'd seen the anime enough times to be wary) she quickly backtracked out of the narrow street and on to one that she hoped looked more familiar.  She had just passed by a dark niche recessed in the right wall when a weathered voice floated to her ears.

"Ojou-sama.  Izanau ne, onegaishimasu?"

Startled, Marissa turned to the sound of the voice and discovered an old woman crouched in the alcove she had just passed.  Tentatively she approached the cloaked figure, noticing the low crate in front of her which held a single candle upon its splintered surface, along with a square patch of fabric that might have once been a deep maroon color, but was now frayed and spotted with moth eaten holes.  Glancing to the left and right Marissa paused a few feet in front of the crate, casually flattening her arm against the small coin purse to hide it from wandering eyes.  "Hai, obaa-san?"

The woman sat up a little straighter, locking a pair of clouded green eyes with Marisa's own brown ones.  A tattered cloak was draped over her hunched shoulders, the white end of a braid just visible over her left arm, which looked to be layered in an abundant collection of discarded pieces of mismatched clothing.  The woman's face was marked heavily by age, the wrinkles on her neck deepening as they stretched over her chin and upper lip, so heavily furrowed that they seemed to disappear together without any lips in the middle.  Her cheeks were sallow and thin, the bags under her eyes appearing as though they had slowly bunched up the skin from her face underneath, while her forehead was spotted with dark brown dots that reached to her white hairline.  The tightly pulled back white hair then disappeared immediately under the hood of her cloak.

The stranger took Marissa's scrutinizing indifferently for a moment before splitting her face into a smile that revealed crooked yellow teeth.  "Ah, I thought it was you.  I have been waiting a long time for you ojou-sama."

Marissa blinked in surprise.  "Excuse me?"

"Hai," the old woman chuckled happily, spreading her boney fingers over the worn cover on the crate.  "You are searching, child.  I was told to give you a message."

Marissa arched up an eyebrow before taking a long step backwards.  "No thank you.  I need to get going."  She had just turned on her heel when the old woman's voice lashed out with a surprising ferocity.

"You will never go home!"

Feeling as though she'd been slapped, Marissa turned slowly back to the crouched figure with wide eyes.  "Wh... what did you say?"

Raising one gnarled hand the woman beckoned Marissa to come closer.  Dazed, but wary, she stepped up the battered box and looked down to see sympathy etched across the woman's wizened face.  "I am sorry, child.  But the path you are taking will not lead you home.  You have been searching for so long and are now coming closer, but beware!  This path is not the way!"

Blinking after a moment, Marissa shook her head and unconsciously stamped her heel against the ground.  "No, you don't know what you're talking about.  You don't even know me!  Here, take what you want."  Pulling her right arm away she fished into the bag at her side and plucked out two coins without looking, preparing to throw them down on the crate, when a dry hand suddenly latched onto her wrist with surprising speed.

"Foolish girl!  I do not say this for the price of a coin."  The old woman thrust Marissa's hand back towards herself and moved slowly to stand up.

Thoroughly frightened by this time, Marissa backed up quickly and began to jog down the road away from the woman, clutching the coins tightly in her right fist.

"Don't be foolish!  Beware!"  The dry voice followed Marissa down the alley until she turned at an intersection and found herself looking out over Market Street.  Taking a few deep breaths to calm her pounding heart she slipped the money back into her purse, glancing around the stalls for one that looked promising to complete her errand.  When one finally caught her eye she strode towards it, at the same time struggling to shake off the goose bumps that wanted to rise on the back of her neck in response to the woman's words.  Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, the shock had worn off to be replaced by genuine fear.  _Will I ever get home...?_

* * * * * * *

The clip-clopping of the horses' hooves pounding against the dirt road were slowly lulling Marissa into a daze that bordered on sleep simply by the boring monotony of the sound.  Her throat was dry, her arms felt like pudding, her thighs ached, and her butt was so sore it had gone numb.  The brisk canter they had been taking for the last hour was taking a nasty toll on all of her lower body's nerve endings.  How could she have been so naive as to think that a few short rides on a horse in her childhood would prepare her for this?

During the extent of their travels they'd passed through woods, villages, towns, and crossed streams and bridges, all within the span of a morning and mid-afternoon.  The world was starting to look a lot larger to her.

_Really, Mari,_ she thought with an inward roll of her eyes.  Did _you really think that you could know everything about this place just from watching tv?_

It seemed like they were entering another village as the familiar wisps of fireplace smoke appeared in the distance.  The last forest they'd been traveling through had dropped away behind them a few minutes before, depositing them on a high hill overlooking a broad open plain that simply beckoned to have human life plop itself down and make a home out of it.  It was lush and enclosed, with a small river meandering through the narrow valley that disappeared into a patch of forest in the distance.  In the settlement itself trees were sparse and far between, with square patches of brown and yellow fields peeking into view with each rise and dip of the road.  Low brown hills rose at the opposite end, creating a convenient natural enclosure to the small valley.  To the worrisome traveler though, they posed an interesting question of how one was to get to the other side without spending hours trying to climb them.

Giving Hou a gentle nudge with her heels and tugging the reins to her left, Marissa cantered up alongside Chichiri.  "Where are we now?"

Chichiri scrunched his line drawn eyebrows together in thought.  "Lian, I believe no da.  I passed through this same area before stopping outside of Shoyu.  I meant to stay there for only a few days before..."  Chichiri trailed off quietly, realizing that he had said too much too late.

Marissa battered down the rising feelings of guilt at his slip and focused on the next question that was bothering her.  "How are we going to get over those hills?"  She pointed at the broad vista in the distance, the three of them having come to a high rise on the road, with the small valley below them spread out like a painting filled with dark lines and brown patches.  Despite being moderately populated, the village also looked bland and weathered, like how any other low class settlement would appear in the beginning of winter.  Trees were either stripped bare of their leaves or nearly there and the fields were long since cleared of their harvests.  Everyone seemed to be nesting down for the cold season to come.

"There is a road through the hills no da.  It's a bit rocky and gets narrow at times, but it's used a lot, since this path is one of the better ones between Shoyu and southern Konan no da."

"Better ones?" Marissa echoed curiously.

"Valleys like this one are few and far between in this area no da.  All the hills make it hard for settlements and traveling, which is why the cities that are up this north are usually smaller, but that doesn't mean there aren't more than one ways to get to them.  Depending on the season, some are better than others no da."

Marissa nodded, understanding dawning.  Traveling by dirt roads and on horse was a far cry from the transportation she was accustomed to; paved roads and freeways that led you hundreds of miles in any direction you desired, neither hills nor mountains nor deserts able to stand in the way of the automobile and a concrete road.  It was amazing now to reflect on, realizing how far human advancement had come in just a millennia, making the world so much smaller; first by the train, then car, then airplane, and now the internet.  Distances in a modern human's mind were just numbers that denoted a few hours of their life used for traveling, while to a resident of this time, distances were measured in days and weeks spent on foot or the back of a horse.  It was staggering to realize the differences that existed.  But even more potent was the strong feeling of helplessness that came with the knowledge - to be aware of a future so different, yet unable to even speak of it.

Staring out over the valley, Marissa felt a chasm snake its way through her heart, a sense of loss and displacement that was hard to describe but easy to name the reason for.  Everything here was so different, so strange, nothing except the two people on horses around her seemed even remotely familiar.  She could have been in her own time for all she knew, looking out on a broad vista of brown hills and a light blue sky, with thin white clouds creating a haze that chilled the air and a pale yellow sun that looked so small and cold.  But once her eyes fell to the wooden rooftops below, the truth hit home, and she felt that divide widen even further.  This place was her planet, but it wasn't where she belonged.  The old woman's words echoed ominously in her ear and she shivered.  _You will never get home!...  A place she could call her own was somewhere far away she couldn't reach, the ghost of a memory that refused to surface in her mind._

The longer she was away from her own time - the future, her present - the more it seemed to be fading as if it had all simply been a dream she'd awoken from that afternoon in Chichiri's bed.  Most unnerving of all was that it didn't feel unusual to consider that possibility.  She'd had those dreams before on her own flower quilted mattress, visions of being another person living an entirely foreign existence.  In the span of a few minutes she was completely that person; their personality, their memories, and their habits.  The dreams differed in gender, language, theme, and mood, everything that could make them as different from her real life as possible.  It was only after waking, when it took a moment for her brain realize just who she was, that the strangeness of the dreams hit her.  They'd always felt remarkably real.

In fact she was sure she'd had a dream like that last night, now that she thought of it.  However as she tried to think back on it, only the vague memory of being a small animal came to mind, something that ran fast and had a quick heartbeat always pounding in her sensitive ears.  She couldn't remember much more except for an intense feeling of fear, but not in concern for herself.  The dream had ended with a pair of jaws snapping her neck in two, causing her to suddenly awaken in the darkened room while Chichiri and Tasuki continued to sleep on peacefully.  Strange, now that she thought back on the experience, she hadn't woken up feeling frightened, but relieved that something had been saved through her sacrifice.  Trust her subconscious to start having animal dreams instead of the ones she was accustomed to.  What was next, dreaming of being bacteria?

Inwardly, Marissa sighed, leaning back in her saddle as Hou jogged down the gentle decline towards the village at the bottom of the hill.  It was little wonder she found so much time for free thinking on this trip.  Genrou had nodded off several times on his horse, needing Marissa or Chichiri to fall back and give him a gentle nudge to right him on his saddle again, which always earned them a slurred outburst for surprising him.  Chichiri, the quiet, stoic monk as always, wasn't much for conversation either.  That man went from hot to cold faster than a woman going through menopause.

Traitorously her mind conjured up a few temperature raising images that sought to contradict her allusion to him being a woman.  _Honestly! she complained to herself_.  For once can we stop with the sexual innuendoes?_  As usual, any answer to her question was slow coming.  Gritting her back teeth together she quickly dammed the flow of those thoughts and dredged up a horribly addicting song from memory.  _This is the song that never ends... yes it goes on and on my friend...__

* * * * * * *

It felt like old times, being on the road again, letting nothing but the whims of nature determine where his feet would take him next.  Sometimes a horse was thrown into the mix, but usually it was by the power of his legs that he came to one town after the other, not searching for anything tangible but still traveling on nonetheless.  Rain or shine, sleet or snow, though preferably not in hail, he continued on.  He told stories at every chance he got, accepting the hospitality of a home or inn in exchange for a night or two of storytelling, recounting his days with the seishi for both the children and adults of the village.  Everyone had heard the stories of course, but how many had actually heard it from the mouth of someone who'd been there, and not a traveling peddler who claimed to know a friend of a cousin that had seen it all happen?

Of course he never told the stories exactly how they had truly happened.  Most obviously, he omitted the part about all of them existing within the pages of a book in another world, perhaps being read by someone at this very moment.  And of course when children were present he left out the scarier details of blood and rape and painful deaths.  No need to frighten the kiddies; after all, he had to maintain that image of Holy Warrior invulnerability, except when the death of one of his comrades needed to be painted in the glory it deserved... self sacrificing, honorable, for the good of the people.  They were all words he'd repeated many times.  And yet each time he moved on, he couldn't help but feel like somehow he was spilling out lies everywhere he went.  Not that he didn't believe lessons needed to be learned to prevent other wars in the future.  But what was the use of making the effort when in the end, it might all be for naught?

More than once since the last battle, when Miaka had returned to her world for good, Chichiri had contemplated the knowledge he'd come into possession of about the truth to their world.  What does one do when he finds out he's a character written on paper?  _Keep on livin,_ is what Tasuki had said shortly before they parted ways many months ago.  The fire seishi had obviously stuck to his own advice, but Chichiri doubted he even remembered giving it.  He, on the other hand, had already sinned enough in this world, committed crimes so heinous that he barely deserved the title of being a warrior of Suzaku.  It was an inner struggle he had dealt with many times during his travels, the urge to just end it all tempered by his vow to serve his god until the end.  He wondered if one day he would ever come to a decision, or if he was forever destined to wander and tell the tales of his life, knowing that somewhere his words showed up as characters on a piece of paper.

Down the hill they trotted, coming closer and closer to the village.  Presently they reached ground level, cantering along the main road of the settlement, which meandered gently through the rows of buildings in a constant southeasterly direction.  The road was mostly bare and devoid of life, and for a moment Chichiri paused to wonder if anyone was still living in town, or if something unpleasant had happened.  But no, there out of the corner of his eye he saw a shutter creak open.  It seemed folks on the outskirts were a little skittish of strangers riding up unexpectedly.

Chichiri heard Marissa made a concerned noise off to his left and knew just what was bothering her.  "Where are all the people?" she asked softly after a moment, though loud enough for him to hear.

"They're here," Chichiri answered, raising his voice purposely.  "We're strangers to them, so they're keeping to themselves.  Completely understandable no da."  He hoped the extra emphasis on the 'no da' might coax a few people away from their fears.  There weren't many blue haired, masked monks in the world with his speech pattern, and he was sure his reputation preceded him.

They were nearing the center of town and Chichiri could hear the louder sounds of a village performing its daily grind.  He had been right thankfully; it was only on the outskirts that people were wary.  In the next minute he slowed his horse, turning in his saddle as a familiar wave of emotion swept over him.  To his right a commotion seemed to trickle out of a small house with a run down fence, and in the next moment its front door swung open, a young woman and a boy no older than 8 years both emerging out of dwelling.  The boy took off running at high speed down the road away from the group while the woman remained standing in the door way, her hands twisting nervously together in front of her apron.  Drawing up closer the woman turned at the sound of the horses, and Chichiri saw that her eyes were red-rimmed and her hair was a mess, the black circles under her eyes revealing several nights of little or no sleep.

At the sight of the travelers the woman's eyes widened and she ran down the walkway, coming up to the gate beside the road.  "Please!" she shouted, which caused Chichiri to pull his reigns up short, Marissa and Tasuki doing the same behind him.

"Are any of you a healer?  Please!  My little baby, she's so sick, I just sent my son to fetch the doctor but I don't think she'll make it!"  The woman was nearly crying openly now, her stance looking as though she was ready to collapse from the strain of caring for her sick child.

"I'm sorry, but..."

"Wait," Marissa interrupted hastily.

Chichiri turned in his seat and raised his eyebrows at her, and for the first time that morning she met his gaze levelly.  _We know some medicine, she implored in his mind, somewhat startling him with the sudden use of telepathy._

_Not enough,_ he countered.  You _know as much as I do, I don't think we can help this woman no da._

Marissa shook her head and slid of her horse, grabbing Hou by the reigns as she looked back up at Chichiri.  _We have to at least try!  At least do something until the doctor comes._

Realizing Marissa wasn't going to be swayed on the matter, Chichiri gave a silent nod and dismounted from his horse as well.  Marissa was already walking through the gate when Tasuki broke in with his usual tactfulness.  "Wh' th' hell she doin Chiri?  We ain't stoppin r we?"

"Hai," he replied, searching in his pack for anything that might prove useful.  "Marissa wants to help until the doctor comes no da."

Tasuki jumped down from his house and struggled with the reigns a bit before the horse complied to walk closer to where Chichiri stood.  "Wha th' fuck?  She ain't no Mitsukake.  Th' girl's gone mad Chiri, I tell ya."

Chichiri sighed and walked towards the house.  "Take care of the horses, Tasuki-kun no da.  We'll be out in a little while."

Inside the dwelling Chichiri found Marissa crouched down beside a low bed in one of the adjoining rooms.  The room was fairly dark, the shutters having been drawn closed and a single candle sitting on a wooden chest sputtered with the incoming breeze.  Looking over Marissa's shoulder, Chichiri saw a little girl laying bundled up in the bed, her dark hair limply plastered to her forehead, and her complexion a waxy yellow that didn't forebode well of a recovery being made.  He could hear Marissa speaking very softly, and the small girl's lips were moving, but no sound reached his ears.

Marissa smiled when they finished talking a gave the girl's small hand and gentle pat, then raised her head to look up at Chichiri and the girl's mother who stood nervously by the door.  "I'm pretty sure she has jaundice.  She hasn't been able to keep anything down, right?" this she directed to the mother, who nodded worriedly.  "I'm going to need a pot of hot water boiled immediately, but for now do you have any gooseberry juice, or syrup?"

The woman shook her head.  "We're not well off.  My husband died two years ago and we've been struggling ever since.  I don't have much here, but I can make the hot water."

Marissa nodded to the woman.  "Please do that then, we'll take care of the rest."  Now she looked up directly at Chichiri.  "If we could get the gooseberry it would help her symptoms right away, and we need to get a bag of snakeguard leaves to make an infusion for her to drink.  It should cure the jaundice in a few days, at most a week."

Chichiri nodded and pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to ask Marissa how she knew all of this.  It might be a waste of time though, she could have only known because it was something common in her world, a place he really knew nothing about.  It would be best not to argue and simply trust her judgment.  He nodded and turned to leave the room when Marissa called him back.  "Wait, she wants to know who you are."

Chichiri returned to the beside and knelt down, his shoulder nearly brushing that of Marissa's.  "Ainuan, this is Chichiri.  He's going to help you get better," she explained softly, gently brushing back a few locks of hair off the girl's forehead.  The girl turned wide brown eyes on Chichiri, their whites a sickly color of pale yellow that made his heart ache in sympathy.  She nodded imperceptibly after a moment and turned her head slowly to say something to Marissa, her lips again barely moving, leaving Chichiri clueless as to what was said.

Marissa, smiling, turned to Chichiri when she had finished.  "She says you're a nice man and wants to know if you'll marry her mommy."

Chichiri visibly sweat dropped and rose from the floor.  "Iie no da.  I'm a monk, so I can't do that, but I will make sure you get better no da."  And with a nod in Marissa's direction he left to perform his errands.

Several hours later, with the doctor checking on a slowly recuperating patient, Marissa and Chichiri stood outside the house dissuading all the gifts and favors the girl's mother was trying to bestow upon them for saving her child's life.  It took awhile, but eventually the woman conceding, thanking them profusely again for assisting and promising them anything if they were to only ask it of her at a later time.  It was nearly dark by the time Chichiri and Marissa walked out the gate and back to their horses, where Tasuki sat dozing on the grass, his own horse's reigns securely looped around his wrist several times over.

"Mari-chan?" Chichiri asked, stilling her just before she made to mount her horse.

She turned face the seishi.  "Yes?"

"Have you ever done that before no da?  You seemed to know what you were doing in there."

Unexpectedly Marissa laughed, her voice echoing into the fading twilight, and Chichiri had a sudden feeling that nothing had sounded quite as carefree as that, and it was a sound he hadn't heard from her in a long time.  "Of course not!" she exclaimed, still chuckling, and he was taken aback.

"But then how...?"

"Well, you of course," she replied, turning serious.  "Remember those memories I got from you?  It was right there in my head.  I looked at her, asked her what was wrong, and I knew what it was and how to cure it.  It wasn't that hard or anything," she mumbled at the end, and Chichiri wondered if she was blushing behind the length of hair that had fallen over her face, though in the encroaching dark he couldn't tell.

"She was a sweet girl," she continued softly after a moment.  "I'm glad we stopped in.  She may not have died if we didn't help, but I feel better that we did.  Someone like her shouldn't have to suffer."  Marissa pulled back her hair and smiled at Chichiri.  "She kept saying the funniest thing too.  I told her my name, but she kept calling me Kuan.  Weird huh?"

Not expecting an answer, as Chichiri didn't have one, she mounted her horse and gave Hou a hug around her neck once she was on her back.  Chichiri watched the exchange, again reminded of the amazing bond the girl and horse seemed to have formed in such a short time.  Something tickled the back of his mind, but whatever it was refused to surface.  It was probably nothing, just the stress of the day piled on by the events unfolding before them and the paths they had decided to take.  He was fully aware of Marissa's misgivings about this trip to Eiyou, but he felt it was for the best, and that if they were truly not destined to follow this route a higher power was sure to intervene.  Until that time though, he would follow his instincts, and that was to head to the capital.

Mounting his horse as well, Chichiri got comfortable in his saddle while watching Marissa nudged Tasuki awake out of the corner of his eye.  She was happy right now, and that's all that really mattered.  A nagging guilt persisted though.  He couldn't bring himself to tell her that he'd never known of jaundice, or the cure for it.


	18. Chapter 17: The Wrong Way Up

Author's notes: My goodness, you won't believe the ordeals I've gone through to finally get this chapter done.  It was actually at 10 pages over a month ago, then suddenly decided it didn't want to be finished and left me to face a crazy barrage of family/bf problems and crashed computers.  But here it is, hopefully at its peak of perfection!  Enjoy!

p.s. Reviews and artwork always do wonders as well ;)  Go here! http: // tech-help.biz / niki / chichiri. html

p.p.s. The formatting sucks right now, but I know how impatient you all are *glances at her beta*  But I'll work on it later when I get home and hopefully clean it up a bit. *kicks ff.net*

Chapter 17 - The Wrong Way Up

_It's not good to climb a mountain with a tiger,_

_You're wobbly, you're nervous, every move you make is tense_

_Suddenly something you remember could help you now -_

_And if you do what you learnt then you won't fall foul._

Picking forlornly at the half eaten bowl of rice in front of her, one elbow propped upon the table while her hand rested against her left cheek bone, it wasn't until Marissa felt a sharp pain in her shin that she looked in surprise.  Chichiri, to her right, was eating his chicken dish slowly and politely, oblivious to the bandit across from him that was giving Mari a teasing glare.

"Welcome back, ne-chan," the red-head smirked, lifting his large mug to take a healthy swig of the warm rice wine inside.  

Marissa rolled her eyes at Tasuki before dropping them back down to stare uninterestedly at her plate.  After a deliberate second she raised her eyes to study Chichiri under her lashes, but quickly averted her gaze back to her food when he changed hands and reached for his mug of water.  An inaudible sigh escaped her lips.  Her joy of discovery this afternoon had quickly turned into something else.  A sunken pit of fear was slowly turning in her stomach.  From the moment they'd ridden away from the dilapidated house she'd felt Chichiri's gaze on her, both by her newborn sixth sense, and by the method every human is inborn with that prickles the hairs on the backs of their necks when someone's eyes are set upon them.  But it wasn't the look of a lost lover, nor that of a man pining remorsefully over his mistakes.  It was a look that Marissa feared to name when she felt it descend upon her.  He was looking at her as though she was a complete stranger.

That gaze unnerved her terribly.  In their entire time together nothing she had done, whether it was magic, klutziness, slipped references to her world, or outbursts of anger, had ever given him cause to look at her that way.  It alienated her from him and made her feel like a complete stranger, as though suddenly she had changed that made her unrecognizable, and it was only apparent to him.  But the worst of it was that she couldn't _say_ anything.  Their relationship was so precariously balanced right now that she feared to say words that might come across as accusing.  And of what for that matter?  For being curious?  Watching her covertly?  Could she really stand up and make an argument against actions so insignificant, especially when he was obviously doing his best to hide them from her? _ Just shut up and take it,_ she thought sternly.  _At least he's doing it without making you feel like someone's breathing down your neck every second._

Perhaps he hadn't even counted in her noticing, in light of how fleeting each scrutiny was.  He might not have even considered her newly honed extra sense kicking in.  But it made the whole experience still more unnerving, for though she couldn't read his thoughts outright, the emotions seeping off of him were hard to miss.  Extreme curiosity, wonderment, and fear… the memory of that emotion made her shiver, and for a brief moment she felt a sharp stab of guilt at being the cause of something so dark resting on his conscious.  But it passed quickly on a wave of irritation.  _So what?  It's his problem, not yours.  If he doesn't want to talk to you about whatever it is, so be it._

But a heavy sense of apprehension lingered.  What had she said or done?   Had she offended him somehow?  Could he really be that upset over her wanting to tend to an ill child?  It hadn't even been anything serious or life threatening, simply an illness that the mother had been too hysterical to recognize.  Could he... the thought was laughable but came up nonetheless... be jealous of her progress?  She shrugged that thought away as soon as it sprung up.  Chichiri was not the jealous type.  _At least, not intellectually, she corrected herself, and suddenly felt a wave of shame sweep over her as she realized just what she'd been thinking.  __I'm sorry... she apologized quickly, as though the thought might make up for having stepped upon such a delicate subject.  No matter that nothing had been said outloud.  It was still rude, even in her own head._

With a soft clatter she let her chopsticks fall to the half eaten plate in front of her.  Both Chichiri and Tasuki glanced up at the sound, but it was Tasuki who spoke around a mouthful of noodles.  "Ya dun, ne-chan?"

Marissa nodded silently, but a second later she raised her head with a smile.  "I'm feeling pretty worn out and tired.  Would it be ok if I just went to bed now?"

"It's not a problem, Mari-chan no da," Chichiri replied, reaching into a pocket on his waist and pulling out a set of two keys on a small brass ring.  He deftly removed one of the keys and pushed it across the table towards Marissa, but as she made to take it his hand didn't leave its place over the key.

She raised her eyes curiously, but found his gaze still hovering on the table top where the key sat.  "Just make sure you lock the door after you go in no da," he advised softly.  "Tasuki and I will knock twice, then come in with our own key later.  Don't let anyone else in, ok no da?"

Marissa nodded, bewildered and touched at the same time, and made again to reach for the key.  Just before her hand reached his fingers he pulled back quickly, settling them around his cup as though he'd intended to do it all along, but the minute trembling of his fingers told Marissa something different.  _He can't even stand to touch me..._

She snatched the key off the table and rose with as much deliberate dignity as she could muster.  A clipped 'oyasumi' left her lips before she turned and headed for the stairs, two 'oyasumi nasai (no da)'s from the table following her departure.

* * * * * * *

In the morning, just as dawn was breaking over the eastern hills, Chichiri found himself awake and staring up contemplatively at the wood ceiling over his bed.  Sometime in the past someone had stood upon the bed and taken liberties with a hunting knife on the wall behind his head, where several Chinese symbols had been crudely carved into the grain.  They read, "The Dragon's Gate is always open."  Someone's attempt at bad poetry perhaps.  Or they'd fancied themselves a prankster, scaring those who might sleep in the same bed and look up to see the ominous message.

For a brief moment he longed for the bed at the small house he'd spent 3 months of his life in, really the longest he'd stayed anywhere since beginning his wanderings.  Granted, he'd slept on the floor after Marissa had come, but it was still comfortable, a plush feather down mat on a smooth wood floor that often left him feeling well rested when compared to many of the other sleeping accommodations he'd had during his life.  Inn beds were as cheap as they got, for even a celebrity with no money ever got the best that was available.  They were straw and made noises when you barely turned over, plus the pillows being straw too, with some down feathers mixed in if you were lucky.  The sounds were painfully different as well.  Noises of other human life, mixed breathing patterns around him in the room, pots and pans clattering together downstairs as the cook began preparing before the morning crowd.  He longed for the peace again, for nature, for the stillness that always arrived right before dawn, just as the birds began to awaken and twitter to life, letting him know a new day had come.  People horribly underestimated the calming peace living the life of a hermit brought to a man.

He missed her too.

Her smell that would permeate the room and bed after a good bathing.  Her soft snores and the way she would make little whimpers while sleeping, fingers twitching as she experienced another dream world.  Even the smell of burning fish made him think of her, recalling her few failed attempts at cooking.  She had gotten better though over time, and he did miss those quiet meals they shared together, their shared smiles filling the room with more warmth than the fire ever could.  It hurt now to reminisce on those things, but there was no harm  except the pain it inflicted on himself, and he was used to pain in all forms.  Love and death, two kinds of pain very similar, very strangely intertwined when one paused to think about it.  Sometimes the loss of love simply **was** death.

He found himself standing beside her bed before he was aware of where his feet were taking him, looking down at her face while she slept.  It was a ritual he hadn't meant to happen.  On the night before their departure from the cabin he'd been guilt ridden and concerned over her well-being, promising himself to make sure that nothing would disturb her well deserved sleep, and so had stood at her side for nearly an hour, merely staring and letting the cold void in his stomach seep out slowly to the rest of him.  Then at the Inn he'd heard her tossing and turning all night, finally settling down at some late hour that even he couldn't place, which had led him to her side in the early dawn, fearing the sight of dried tears on her cheeks.  But there were none then, and there were none now, and with a pang of selfishness he wondered if she ever would.  She was not a woman prone to tears though, the only ones he had ever seen fall having done so during the worst moments of fright and insecurity.

Against the white pillow her hair looked more brown than deep red, the mysterious sunlight only present at dawn coloring the room in a gold hue that was slowly intensifying with each passing second.  The rays were distorting everything they touched, scattering around the room like flittering butterflies that wished to settle upon everything in sight.  They touched upon her lips, which were bright and slightly parted, a faint snore trickling out from between the pink petals.  She looked radiant and innocent, save for the paleness in her cheeks, and fleetingly Chichiri worried that she was colder than she looked.  Silently he reached for the blanket lying across her chest and dragged it higher up, letting it fall gently over her neck.  It was simply natural that he let his hand linger longer than necessary so close to her skin, slowly bringing his fingers along her cheek, feeling the warm flesh slowly rise and fall with each breath.  Her hair seemed just a little out of place, so there was nothing wrong with pulling a few locks aside, feeling slightly proud that he might have made her more comfortable.  But too soon he had to draw back, watching her shift slightly in sleep as the gentle touch left her forehead.

"You aren't mine to have," he proclaimed in a voice no louder than the softest whisper, and bowed his head, unable to leave her side just yet.

* * * * * * *

They were on the road again, not an hour after the sun had risen over the brown eastern hills surrounding Lian.  A quick breakfast for the humans and horses (the bill for everything gratefully waived by the Inn keeper after realizing the fame of his houseguests) had set them on their journey again, this time slowly trudging up the twisted path that led them through the southern hills and towards their final destination of Eiyou.  They were still several days off their goal, but the weather had been fair, if not nippy enough at times to cause them to don heavier coats, but the ground was hard packed and gave them easy travel time.  In part though, their quick pace was spurred by the looming threat of heavy rainstorms, whose sudden appearances left the roads muddy and untraversable, which would force the trio to postpone their trip for days, if not weeks, longer.  Konan suffered under heavy, cold rain during the winter, monsoons that swept in from the eastern shore and swirled across their portion of the world with surprising ferocity.  Lightening storms on the forefront of the rains were a common and spectacular sight, but not without their own dangers, as the occasional blackened tree stump proved to remind people.  And while in other parts of the world the outer arms of these storms dropped loads of snow and sleet and gave citizens a winter wonderland, in Konan it simply rained for days.

It was nearing late afternoon, having ridden the entire day with only one stop for lunch and water for the horses, when they came upon the crossroads.  The dusty trail had left behind the hills hours ago, placing them on level terrain with occasional ups and downs, though nothing as intimidating as their first venture out of Lian.  The thick forests had stayed behind with the hills they'd last descended from a few short hours ago, leaving their surroundings composed entirely of fields and spotted clusters of trees, while the sound of a river or stream trickled by at regular intervals as the highway wound this way and that.  There'd been no alternative routes up until now, this main thoroughfare a seemingly well traveled yet sparsely settled commute, perhaps the proximity to the north and no major waterways having something to do with it.  Yet having come to an intersection of sorts they were left with a choice.  Before the branch the path widened considerably up to where it suddenly split in two; one direction heading southeast, the other southwest.  There were no signs or markers of any sort, but when Chichiri pulled up his head horse and had them stop, Marissa had an inkling that he knew where they were.

"Na, Chiri, which way?" Tasuki called out from his place in back.

"The right one.  It's the road that'll take us right into Eiyou no da."

"Yosha!  Bu' where's th' other one go?  I ain't neva been tha' way 'fore." Tasuki asked curiously, craning his neck to look down the other dusty lane.

"Not much," Chichiri responded.  "Towards the east coast, a few towns, fishing villages, not much no..."

In a flash of insight, Marissa was certain she knew where else the other road led.

"Shoryuu," she interrupted softly.

Chichiri glanced to the rider on his left, masking his surprise, but found her looking off to the east with an unreadable expression on her face.  "Hai," he replied, struggling to repress any change of pitch that threatened to break into his voice.  "That's why we're going west no da."  With a kick slightly harder than he'd intended, he directed his horse along the rightmost path, hearing Tasuki curse in annoyance as his horse stood steadfast on the road despite the harsh kicks his rider was giving him.  But their last rider wasn't following.

At the crossroads Marissa stood staring a moment longer down the left road, imagining that just over the rise she might be able to see the town where Chichiri grew up in, or what was left of the village.  Perhaps they had rebuilt it in the years since the flood.  With a sinking feeling in her heart she knew she would never find out what had become of the place.  Using the gentle pressure of her thighs, as kicking had never been necessary to direct Hou, Marissa cantered after her two companions, feeling almost childishly disappointed that their mission was preventing her from living out a fangirl's fantasy.

Looking up, her breath hitched for a second when she became aware of the gaze that was pinned on her by Chichiri.  He sat straight on his horse, but his head was barely turned in her direction, those masked eyes studying and wondering.  It was the same look again.  Feeling her cheeks burn, Marissa quickly looked the other way, pressing her lips together until she felt her teeth dig painfully into the soft flesh.  She hated it.  His silent stares and mute curiosity.  She felt like a lab rat under his gaze, always being studied to the point of voyeurism, but never spoken to as if she were a human being wondering what the hell was going on.

Angrily she gripped Hou's reigns tighter, wishing she had a decent aim and something to throw to nail right at the back of Chichiri's head.  It'd serve the jerk right.  Let him puzzle over that for a change, wondering why he suddenly had dozens of projectiles hitting him from behind.  But the anger washed away as quickly as it had come, and resignedly Marissa let her chin sag to rest against her chest, allowing Hou to simply guide herself.  _Let him stare all he wants.  If he wants to see me sad and pathetic, so be it.  Are you getting a good look Chichiri?  Are you happy with what you see?  Do you even care anymore?  I wish you'd leave me alone... just leave me alone..._

* * * * * * *

Just as the bloated orange sun touched the horizon the trio set up a small camp some distance off the main road under a copse of sheltering trees and close to a steady stream that bubbled cheerfully within hearing distance.  The horses were fed and watered first, then tied securely to three separate trees with clean grass underfoot.  A small fire pit was quickly erected by Tasuki, who claimed sole duty of the chore as he was the Master of Fire; though not surprisingly the job of wood collecting was placed entirely on Marissa's shoulders.  With an enthusiastic 'Lekka Shinen!' the fire was blazing and soon dinner was on everyone's mind.

Retrieving his fishing pole from the unknown depths of his kasa, Chichiri was only too happy to oblige and walked off to find the creek and that evening's dinner.  As his footfalls reached the edge of the trees both Marissa and Tasuki sunk down on either side of the fire, sore thighs and legs begging for a rest from the day's constant riding.  It was silent between them, but the absence of sound was neither oppressive nor uncomfortable, at least not to Marissa.  She'd spent a lot of time today conversing with her own thoughts, and that the evening might be more of the same didn't surprise her.

After a few minutes though Tasuki picked up one of the spare pieces of kindling, a short thick stick, and began tapping it rhythmically against his booted foot.  When the sound didn't desist after more than a minute Mari looked up, wondering just what was on the bandit's mind, but he startled her by speaking first.

"So ya wanna talk 'bout it?"

Marissa blinked at Tasuki in surprise.  "Talk about what?"

Tasuki faintly smiled and jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Chichiri had headed off in.

Marissa found herself blushing uncomfortably.  "There's nothing to talk about, really."

Tasuki 'hmm'ed thoughtfully then was silent, his eyes watching Marissa's face with a look of sympathy she wished wasn't there.  After a moment he picked up the stick that had been resting across his ankle and poked contemplatively at the fire in front of them, sending up little flurries of sparks into the night air.  "I've known Chiri a'wile, but I dun really know 'em, if ya get my meanin.  He's a good man n all, real secretive tho, but smart as hell.  When we all met 'em, he was weird n sumtimes way too damn childish, but we learn'd real fast tha' he was th' mos' powerful o' us all.  Tama-chan n Hotohori tried ta act like they were th' best n all, but I think them two were jus' too scared shitless tha' there was someone as strong as Chichiri n our side.  I weren't there er nuthin, but I heard how he stood up 'gainst Nakago.  Out o' us all, I think Chiri was th' only one strong enuf ta fight tha' bastard face ta face, e'en before we all went n got our new shit from th' Baba.

"I didn used ta think 'bout Chiri much, like as a man n all.  Wasn't till th' end when e'eryone was gone n he n I were wanderin tha' I started ta wonder.  We'd all been thru tons o' shit, sum o' us worse then others n' our pasts, but I think Chiri might've gone thru th' worst.  He ain't neva said nuthin, ta me a' least, but I seen th' way he looks a' people sumtimes.  Tha' kina longin, jealous but sad a' th' same time.  Yanno wha I mean?  I couldn' place it a' firs when I saw it, but now I kno it comes from a deep, ol' wound tha' still ain't healed up.  But yanno, whateva's been botherin 'em fer so long, he's still a good man unerneath it all, n' I trust tha' guy with ma life.  So whateva happened between ya two, I bet its hurtin em jus' as much, 'cause Chiri ain't th' type o' man ta forget nuthin', an tha' ol' wound proves it."

Falling silent, Tasuki spent another moment pursing his lips before looking up at Marissa, who was staring off to the side with a saddened expression.  "Ya gonna give em another chance, ne-chan?"

Marissa sighed heavily and gave her shoulders a noncommittal roll, reaching up to scratch the side of her neck.  "I don't know."

"Why?" Tasuki put to her point blankly.

Marissa slowly worried her lower lip a moment before answering.  "I'm not sure it's worth it.  I feel like he has enough on his mind without worrying about our relationship… friendship," she added quickly.  Tasuki nodded solemnly at that, still poking at the healthy fire, for once being a considerate listener as Marissa picked back up her train of thought.

"Sometimes I wish it could go back to the way it was.  Being in the house with him and not really, seriously worrying about the world outside.  Like he trained me, and it was fun, but a lot of the time I could forget about the future and just think that I was learning neat new tricks, stuff I could never do in my world.  It always felt so peaceful there, like everyday I was learning something great.  I think I needed the distraction, to not wake up every morning worrying about being that much closer to... the future.  But then you came and…" she trailed off and looked away guiltily.

A genuine smile spread over Tasuki's features.  "An made ya remember it all?"

Marissa nodded and threaded her fingers around her knees, drawing them up towards her chest and curling inward with guilt over the emotions Tasuki seemed to pick up so easily.  "Don't get me wrong though.  I like you fine, Genrou, I just… couldn't help but feel… annoyed, and betrayed, that you had suddenly come back and was the reason for up starting this whole trip.  Deep inside I knew it had to happen, but that still didn't stop me from getting upset about it.  And now all we're thinking about is this mission to get to the capital, just like what I was afraid of, and it seems almost… rude, to try and bother Chichiri about something that doesn't matter as much as this trip does."  She gave a half hearted sigh and looked up to find Tasuki smiling one of his crooked grins.

"Yer honest, ne-chan, tha's nice ta see in a woman, but ya still dun think of yerself enuff."  Dropping the burnt stick into the fire, Tasuki scooted back then dropped his elbows onto his knees, cradling his chin in one of his upturned palms.  "Dun worry 'bout what's in th' past.  Yer nice an a decent person, but ya dun give people a chance ta think fer themselves.  Mebbe he just needs time, ne?  I'm worried 'bout em too, I ain't neva seen em this quiet.  An trust me, I've seen em meditatin like th' world could end round him an he ain't movin fer nuthin.  Sumthin's botherin em, an it's 'bout you, so dun go thinking that ya dun matter more than some dumb trip."

Marissa blushed and gave a single nod, dropping her head with the movement.  "I know I should give him time, but it's just hard to think… wait," she stopped speaking and lifted her head to blink at Tasuki in bewilderment.  "Did the world's biggest woman hater just call me 'nice' and 'decent'?"

Tasuki let out a loud snort and sat up straight.  "Well when ya lived a life like mine a man's gotta right ta hate mos' women.  But I'd be damn stupid ta neva see which ones er decent an which er th' ones ta keep 'way from.  Like Miaka, she was our Priestess, was annoyin in th' beginnin, but she turn'd out ok.  Better with Tama tho, I dun know anyone willin ta share tha' much food, knowin she'd clean yer plate n her own."

A soft chuckle and a nod from Marissa caused Tasuki to raise an eyebrow at her in curiosity.  "Then agin, maybe ya knew tha' already?"

Marissa attempted a smile and nodded slowly, uncurling her fingers from around her knees, opting to pick at the fabric of her dress instead.  "Yeah.  I know a lot."  The confession immediately made her feel uncomfortable, but relieved for finally being able to say it.  She chanced a look at Tasuki, worried that perhaps he'd take it no better than he had last time, since in truth she'd been awake to hear the bandit's tirade when he was told she knew about their personal lives and struggles.  Instead, she was surprised to find him looking at her with a deep expression of sympathy.  In the firelight his amber eyes glowed an intense orange, almost frightening to behold, but despite their fiery depths they were understanding and open.  Attempting a smile, he placed his hands in his lap and looped his fingers together, leaning forward slightly into the warmth of the fire.  "Did ya wanna talk 'bout it?  Anythin, really.  I ain't gonna bug ya for future crap, but th' past's dun with.  There's nuthin wrong with talkin 'bout that."

Genuinely surprised, it was nearly a full minute before a slow smile spread across Marissa's face.  "Thank you," she replied softly.  Uncurling herself from the ball she'd been gathered in before, she relaxed into a cross legged position on the ground and copied Tasuki's stance, gazing across the fire at the seishi with newfound respect.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you a question?"

A nervous smile flitted across Tasuki's face before smoothing away into a smirk.  "Depenin on th' question if I'm gonna answer."

"Well… this is something I've wondered about a bit.  Why did you join up with the seishi?  I mean, you had made all that effort to trick them and send them off on a goose chase to find Shouka, only to end up following them anyway and saving their butts, which was good I mean, but still.  Why?"  Marissa watched Tasuki expectantly over the fire, laying his offer to talk out in the wide open.

"Well… shit."  Tasuki ran a hand through his hair and spared Marissa a wary look before taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts together.  "Well... ya gotta know my mom ta know why.  Ya dun know 'bout my mom… do ya?" he asked suspiciously as an afterthought.

Marissa stifled a smile.  "I know a little bit… not everything.  I know you have 5 sisters, all older than you, and a mom who you hate pretty much, as she smothered you with her breasts when you were a baby, which is the reason why you hate milk, and your sisters tried to drown you while giving you swimming lessons when you were younger, which is why you can't swim either."

Unexpectedly Tasuki smiled, revealing every front tooth and sharp fang he possessed.  "Hell woman, tha' jus' saved me a shitload o' story tellin.  Well ma mom, all my life she's been a protectin me, treatin me like a baby an bein way too damn annoyin.  Tha's why I ran away in th' firs place, got ma name changed an became a bandit.  All tha' stuff ya jus' said is th' same story e'ery one knows 'bout ma family, but only Kouji knows th' real stuff.

"Ma mom knew from th' moment I came outta her I was gonna be a seishi.  Destiny an prophesy crap like tha'.  An she made sure all ma life I was the biggest fuckin pansy in th' whole damned town.  I got picked on, kicked in shit, e'en by my own sisters, cause ma mom coddled me so damn much.  She neva wanted me ta be a seishi or a warrior er nuthin but her baby. An I hated it.  So I got tough an ran 'way from home an swore I'd neva be what ma mom want'd me ta be.

"Then some day, this chick an her posse come ta Hakurou's fortress, sayin she's the Miko and lookin for me.  Well dammit, I'd jus' gotten back from tryin ta find a cure for Hakurou's illness, foun out my spot for leader'd been taken by tha' shit Eiken, an tha' my best buddy was hidin fer his life cause he'd tried ta fight 'gainst em.  I weren't leavin fer nuthin, not no Miko or destiny or god."

"Then why'd you go back?" Marissa interrupted curiously.  "When you rejoined them you just said you and Kouji talked it over and he was going to be the new leader."

Tasuki nodded.  "Ya I said tha' then, but it ain't th' whole truth.  Few days after Miaka an em left Kouji sat me down n made me remember all the shit ma mom had put me through, n how I'd swore I weren't gonna become the pansy she wanted me ta be.  An I knew he was right, I jus' hated tha' she'd had ta come get me right when I was gonna be th' leader 'gain.  Bu' I had Kouji ta kick me in th' ass, so I made em temporary leader an wen' after em ta help out.  Shit, good thin I did, those wimps couldn' even fight off a buncha zombies!"

Marissa burst out laughing at Tasuki's last comment, as the bandit was eating his own words with every degrading remark towards the other seishi.  It was in this state, with Tasuki having joined with his own loud chuckles, that Chichiri found them in as he returned from his fishing trip.  Their snorts and giggles quickly subsided at the sight of the monk, who looked embarrassed and surprised at finding his two companions getting along so merrily.  He presented them with his catch silently, four fish already gutted and awaiting a slow cook over the open fire.

When the tantalizing smell of fresh water fish cooked with a splash of lemon juice floated through the campsite, Tama-chan chose to emerge from the grove of trees to claim his portion; having bolted from one of the packs secured on Chichiri's horse to explore the surrounding area when they'd stopped for the evening.  Each traveler was given their share, along with several honey cakes warmed by the fire that had been bought just for this situation.  Night had finally fallen over the forest, the only light in the sky cast by the multitude of stars slowly spinning in the murky whirlpool overhead.  The fire, now made even larger by adding the rest of their kindling, was a welcomed warmth in the cooling air and everyone sat as close as possible without being scorched, enjoying their warm meal with relish.

During the informal dinner, Marissa and Tasuki exchanged several more conversations, but those were spoken in hushed tones cut through by bouts of laughter on both of their parts.  They hadn't meant to seem as though they were being secretive, but after Chichiri had returned it had felt wrong to continue their game of question and answer with the stoic monk present, who gave the impression that he was neither listening nor paying attention to what either of them had to say.  So when Marissa had leaned over with a half-smile to put another question to the seishi, he had answered in the same muted tones while chewing around his meal.  They conversed that way for awhile on their side of the fire, even after the last of the fish and cakes had been eaten and the bones tossed into the amber flames.  It wasn't until a yawn ripped through Tasuki unexpectedly that they realized just how long they must have been talking.

"Tha's it ne-chan, I'm goin ta bed, ya ain't allowed ta ask me anythin else till tamorrow.  Gotit?"

Marissa let a flash of disappointment cross her face before nodding in understanding.  "I have to warn you though.  I'll think up a lot more to ask overnight, so you better be prepared."

"Hai hai," Tasuki drawled, back turned while spreading out his bedroll a few feet away from the dancing flames.

When he finished the task he took a step back over to Marissa, who was still seated in front of the fire with one of the spare blankets wrapped around her shoulders.  "Na, ne-chan.  Ya should be goin ta bed too, unless..." at this a grin crossed his face and he leaned closer to whisper in her ear.  "Dun think Chiri would min a bit o' questionin emself, if yer up ta it."  He flashed a wink to her scowling expression, then plodded back to his bedroll, falling onto his back with an 'oof'.  Within no less than five minutes the first rumblings of a snore could be heard escaping the fire seishi and Marissa found herself envying his ability to fall asleep so quickly.

Then, so unexpected it was when Chichiri spoke in English, that the blanket fell from her shoulders when she jumped in surprise.

"I... I'm sorry, what?" she stammered, tugging the fallen edges back around her.

"I was wondering if you're feeling alright no da."

For a moment the rate of her heartbeat sped up and she felt her stomach suddenly burn with nervousness and uncertainty.  "I... I don't... huh?"

"You've been looking unwell lately no da," Chichiri clarified, unfolding from his meditative pose to scoot closer to the fire.  "I was wondering if you're feeling alright no da."

"I'm fine," Marissa answered, voice steady, but blinking rapidly.  "I don't feel ill at all.  Why do you ask?"

"I thought you've been looking pale, but perhaps I was wrong no da."

Though the butterflies swarming in her stomach had switched from frenzied to a slower migration, it took a generous amount of willpower to keep her voice from betraying the fast pace of her heart.  "Thank you for asking.  But really, I feel fine."

With that the silence prevailed again, louder than ever, yet the warm blood pulsing through her ears remained quick and ever present.  _Just my luck that when he finally speaks to me like a real person I turn into a quivering mess.  What to say now?  Or say anything at all?  Does he want to talk?  Or am I going to make a fool out of myself... again._

The petulant remark was out before she could stop it.  "I'm surprised you even noticed something like that."

He raised his head, pinning her with a steady look over the top of the fire.  "Mari-chan, you think I don't care for your well-being no da?"

Marissa bit her lip in embarrassment as his forthrightness.  "Er…"  _Oh just stop it and be blunt for once._  "Yes," she finished.

Chichiri actually had the decency to look wounded by her confession.  His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly and his normally perky bangs slowly drooped to hang listlessly down his forehead.  After a few seconds his right hand started to move towards the mask on his face, but then dropped back down before getting halfway there.  "I'm sorry you feel that way no da."

"I don't want to," she countered in a half mumble, feeling guilty.  "Lately it hasn't felt like I've had much of a choice though."

There was another long segment of silence after that, Marissa half swimming in her thoughts while at the same time wondering if this was the end of their conversation.  She wasn't going to push him to say anything that might help her feel better.  She would rather hear the truth and be hurt than spared the ache and told more white lies that only succeeded in covering up the problem, not fixing it.  If he wanted to leave it at that she wouldn't blame him.  Things were tough enough right now as it was.

In a flash of insight she recalled Tasuki's words about what Chichiri might be feeling under the concealment of the mask, and realized that they were probably both feeling the loss of their comfortable world.  They'd been ripped from their tiny sanctuary and forced to open their eyes to the real world again, so perhaps they were simply dealing with the unpleasantness in different ways.  "It's kinda hard right now," she began slowly, trying to put her thoughts to words.  "This trip and everything it means.  A part of me is glad we're getting it over with, and another part is really ticked off that it had to happen so soon.  I really wanted to spend more time learning, and being with you…"

She risked a glance at him under her lashes to see the monk nodding silently to her sentiments.  "I wanted to say sorry," she continued, feeling the words begin to tumble out of her in the effort to say everything before the moment was taken away.  "For how I acted the other morning.  I rarely lose my temper and I didn't even understand why I did until I was talking with Tasuki before.  I was really hurt that he had come and made us remember that we were still preparing to fight something, when all I wanted to do was just stay happy and comfortable.  It was understandable for me to be mad, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you guys like that."

After another drawn out pause, Chichiri rose from his spot and stepped lightly to the bare patch of dirt on her right side.  Neither spoke while he sat down again, leaving them just a few inches from shoulders touching.  Marissa would have thought that the close proximity might leave her speechless and flustered, but in fact she felt the opposite.  Having him this close brought a level of comfort even better than the warmth of the fire, and she felt renewed at his nearby presence.  Not the strength to speak though, that was still far coming with the man she admired with all her heart being so near.  But she did feel comforted, and felt a glimpse of the hope she'd bottled up and corked tightly that they might go back to being friends.

"I'll forgive you," Chichiri intoned softly, his voice dropping in pitch despite the presence of the mask on his face.  "If you'll forgive me first."

Marissa turned her head to the side and studied his profile openly.  "For what?"

The tight press of his lips together made Marissa want to smile, but she kept the urge down and waited, wondering if he'd actually come out and admit it.  Chichiri seemed like a man who lived for acceptance of the world around him, and even those existing outside of it.  Yet secretly Marissa wondered what drove this situation to be any different.  He was asking for forgiveness, not acceptance for his actions; the latter of which she would happily agree to if the true intentions behind this whole ordeal came out.

He licked his lips and took a deep breath.  "I was wrong to impose myself on you."

"I didn't mind."

His head did jerk around then, penciled eyes watching her with an expression of disbelief and curiosity.  "How can you say that Mari?  I forced myself on you, then led you on, and hurt you deeply, all because of..."  He took a deep breath again and let it out quickly.  "It doesn't matter.  I must ask forgiveness of you for what I did, it wasn't right, either time."

Her hand somehow found its way out of the folds of blanket and onto the sleeve of his arm, where it rested against the coarse fabric as she made her appeal.  "I think we're even.  You kissed me, I kissed you, there's nothing to be sorry about, no matter what the reasons were behind them."

Chichiri sighed and looked back into the fire silently, her words swirling through his head before arranging themselves into their proper interpretation.  When they settled he did take off his mask, long delicate fingers pulling away the paper to reveal an open eye staring into the fire.  He felt the barest hint of a tremble against his bicep where her fingers rested, but her breathing continued to be steady and her hand remained where it was.  "What was your reason?"

"Hope," she answered truthfully, and he felt the grip on his arm tighten imperceptibly.  "I had hoped that maybe you were getting over... your past... and allowing yourself to be happy again."

"I don't deserve happiness," he bit out bluntly, surprised at his own vehemence.

"Don't say that, for god's sakes," she exclaimed, pulling back as though stung.  "Why shouldn't you be happy?  The fighting's over now and you don't have 7 other people to worry about protecting.  Maybe you didn't die along with everyone else because you were being given a second chance to live, to find a life and be happy in it."

He shook his head resolutely, feeling frustration building up, though at her or himself he wasn't sure.  "I have sinned terribly and Suzaku kept me alive simply to allow me to pay for my sins with the rest of my life.  It's my duty to teach those about the mistakes their predecessors made, being a living reminder to them of what war does.  If I have to spend the rest of my life living alone and repenting, then so be it."

Marissa blinked at Chichiri in disbelief.  "How can you... what would make you think..."

  
He cut her off with a sharp turn of his head and pointed to the scar that lay spread over his face.  "This is my sin.  Until this scar goes away I will always be repaying for my past.  If only you knew..."  He shook his head and turned back to the fire, upper lip curled slightly in self disgust.

"I do know," she breathed after a moment, and watched his shoulders suddenly freeze in the middle of an indrawn breath.  "I've seen it all, and I don't care what you think.  I still believe that you're a good person who deserves a second chance at life.  It's been so hard for me, knowing how much you suffer and not being able to tell you the things I know, what I've seen of the future.  So many things are going to hurt you, I've wanted to warn you and take you away from them at the same time.  Even though it all works out ok it still pains me to see you beat yourself up for a sin that won't even exist in less than a year.  But please believe me, that I care for you so much, more than I've ever cared for anyone..."  She bowed her head at her final confession, loose tendrils of hair spilling over her shoulder.

Chichiri felt like the world had suddenly dropped out from underneath him, keeping him rooted to the spot while it still spun, leaving him dizzy and suddenly fatigued.  She had known all this time about his past, every dirty bit and piece of it.  His student, friend, and the woman he thought himself in love with.  She knew, and he didn't know whether to feel elated or betrayed.

When he didn't speak for well over a minute she lifted her head and watched him quietly.  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that I knew," she apologized, breaking the silence.  "It was your secret to have and tell, not mine.  I didn't want you to be angry with me if you found out I knew."

Chichiri's face was closed to her, but he did finally move, reaching up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shut his eye.  "We should go to sleep."  But the remark wasn't cold or forced, simply weary.

Marissa nodded her understanding and reached behind her to retrieve the bedroll she had been leaning against.  She spread it out quickly a short distance from the fire, keeping her out of range of the gray smoke that might suddenly change direction without warning.  As she settled on the mat her gaze fell on the monk who hadn't moved from his hunched position.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked, suddenly feeling timid.

He shook his head, fingers unconsciously playing with the paper mask in his hands.  "I'll keep watch for awhile then wake up Tasuki.  Go to sleep.  I'll be here."

She nodded her thanks and curled up on the firm padding, grateful for the absence of rocks and large twigs underneath.  Just before falling asleep though she cursed herself for forgetting to ask the most important thing that had been nagging her.  She'd never found out what _his reasons for kissing her were._


	19. Chapter 18: Fate

Chapter 18 - Fate

_The fish swims in muddied jade green water_

_Surrounded on all sides of a trawler net;_

_He thinks that if he wriggles, he can escape -_

_And fate says yes, OK: and equally, no: no way._

Marissa shivered upon waking. Her nose and left hand were both icy cold, forgotten outside the heavy blanket and exposed to the frigid morning air. She could feel a layer of chilly dew clinging to her eyelids and lips, as if a frost had settled on them overnight and hundreds of tiny needles were digging into her skin. She lifted her cold hand and blew warm air into her palm, a welcome pain flowing through it as circulation and warmth were restored to her fingers. As she cracked her eyes open a brightening blue sky was revealed overhead, the pink of dawn fading fast and a few high white clouds spreading like ripples towards the east. Wearily she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and twisted her face towards the fire pit, feeling her neck sting in protest.

One body beside the pit was curled up in a tight ball under their blanket. On the opposite side someone's bedding sat already rolled and tied with a blanket neatly folded on top. Marissa glanced back at the other figure, Tasuki's orange hair peeking over the curve of his shoulder, and felt her stomach sink. Logic told her that Chichiri was probably off fishing for their breakfast or tending to personal needs. But her heart panged at the fact that he always felt the need to rise before everyone else and spend time away from them. Part of her wanted to find him and see if their talk from last night could be continued, and another part wanted to stubbornly leave him be to his own selfish devices.

She sighed out loud and shifted under the blanket. The movement drew a startled hiss of pain from her lips at the sudden burning sensation that raced over her legs. Her inner thighs felt as if they were on fire, aching of strained muscles and raw skin. Biting her bottom lip, she made an attempt to sit upright, wincing as the contact between her pants and the raw skin of her legs. When she came to sit up on her elbows, she stared accusingly at her lap and let out a low sigh of frustration. Her lower back began to throb in time with the pulse that thrummed through her veins, as if she'd slept on hard rocks the entire night, and in a lurching wave she regretted spending so much time on horseback during their journey. She could never have predicted that her untrained muscles and flesh would react this badly. Though in hindsight she could hardly believe that she'd been so naive, especially considering the pain she had endured those few times as a child riding horseback on guided tours.

_Stupid, stupid._ Her inner chant did little to help her mood or condition however. Any sort of movement was quickly looking to be a painful endeavor, and she had a sinking feeling that included getting back on a horse.

Tossing a quick glance at the sleeping figure, she slipped her arms under the blanket and carefully removed her pants, trying not to hiss aloud as the coarse fabric scraped over raw flesh. Careful to keep her legs apart and the blanket over her lower body, she pulled the garment off her ankles and breathed a soft sigh of relief. Still relatively alone in their campsite (and caring less for modesty and more for comfort), she tossed back the blanket and fanned the edges of her dress over her legs. The cool air raised goose bumps on her flesh but felt sinfully good against her thighs.

"Good lord," Marissa muttered once she got a look at her skin. The inside of her thighs were splashed bright red and rubbed nearly raw in several places from the material of her pants. Small droplets of blood oozed free where the abrasions managed to break through the skin and Marissa shivered at the sight.

Legs akimbo she leaned forward and put on her sneakers, tying up the laces with quick tugs that betrayed her nervousness. Not only was the situation embarrassing, but it entailed some sort of medical treatment in an age that relied on raw plant material to get the job done. The thought was not wholly comforting. Marissa slowly got to her feet, feeling foolish with her legs bowed and dress gathered up around mid-thigh. If she was lucky Genrou would stay asleep and she'd avoid running in Chichiri coming back to the camp. With awkward, waddling steps, she crossed the campsite over to where Hou stood tied up. The horse flicked her tail lazily in greeting, brown eyes blinking sleepily with the early hour, as she watched Marissa approach her flank.

Giving the mare an affectionate pat, Marissa squatted to rummage through the leather packs that sat on the ground with the saddle that had been removed from the horse the night before. She felt her knees starting to strain after a few minutes of fruitless searching, having only come up with a roll of bandage but nothing that inspired a cure for her abraded skin. Sighing, she stood upright with a wince and leaned against the docile mare as she contemplated her options. There were many plant types that would make a decent poultice, at the very least a temporary healing balm for her skin; her only problem now was that she had to find them.

Marissa combed her fingers through the light brown mane of her companion and gave the horse a wistful smile. It didn't look like she'd be able to ride the mare anytime in the near future, and already her feet were aching at the thought of walking the next part of their journey. There really wasn't anything she could do though, just give her legs time to heal and take it easy the next time she decided to mount a horse for nearly two whole days. She gave the horse one last pat before taking the roll of bandages and moving away from the campsite, following the sound of the trickling steam.

As she stepped through the trees and brush her eyes trained themselves on the ground, looking for anything familiar among the bushes and fallen branches that crowded in the space between the trunks. None of the plants were flowering with the colder season, though some still had a few tenuous buds that looked to be on their last leg of existence. One such bud, a deep purple, caught her eye and she bent over the plant to tear off one of the stems. She continued her walk while sniffing the leaves, then took an experimental bite of the bittersweet plant. Her guess at it being alfalfa had been right, and while it wasn't exactly pleasant to eat, she knew it had more nutrients packed into its green leaves than most of the foods she'd eaten so far in this world. She forced herself to chew and swallow each bite while she continued her search, getting closer to the bubbling stream that could be heard quite loudly now.

Marissa came to a break in the trees and stopped, swallowing the last pieces of alfalfa in her mouth. The dry soil slowly gave way to rocks and pebbles that sloped gently down an incline towards a sparkling steam. The clear water gurgled over a bed of smooth stones and a few large boulders that divided the fast paced current into swirling eddies towards the center. Deep, darker water carved a swift channel through the middle of the stream, where sticks and leaves were carried on their merry way down river towards a distant coastline. By the swell of the banks on either side, it appeared safe to assume that the stream spent much of its time being a small river when rain was more abundant in the area. Large trees with drooping branches created a pleasant natural border on either side of the small river, many of their limbs dotted with the remaining reds and gold of late fall while others hung stark and bare, a testament to the oncoming winter.

Not for the first time, Marissa was grateful for the rubber soled sneakers on her feet as she picked her way across the rock strewn ground. Still having neither heard nor seen any sign of her other traveling companion, she'd kept her dress hiked above her knees, the hand holding the bundle of bandages also keeping a firm hold on the ends of her dress. She felt embarrassed to admit it, but the freedom of movement it afford her was welcome after having spent weeks conforming to the clothing styles of an ancient Chinese culture. She would have been more insistent on wearing a pair of shorts had the weather not turned colder, though being covered from head to toe and not even allowed to show a speck of elbow or ankle hadn't been what she'd hoped for either. Something inside of her wanted to rebel and wear shorts and a t-shirt just to see the reaction on people's faces, while another, more cautious part, warned against drawing that kind of attention in an unfamiliar world. Just look at what had happened to Miaka from wearing a school uniform - molested by thugs at every turn, proposed to by two emperors, held at knifepoint by bandits, not to mention nearly raped twice.

_Yeah, bad idea, _Marissa grudgingly admitted to herself. After moving upstream for several minutes she saw the walls of the river began to incline more sharply into a natural gorge and decided to move off the rocks towards the line of trees again. Upon reaching the top of the slope, a low sitting plant with wide, flat leaves caught her eye. Squatting down with her back to the stream, the familiar scent of mint met her nose and a hopeful smile crossed her face. The leaves were much wider and of a lighter green than normal mint, but the rough edges were similar, as well as the cool scent which grew stronger when she rubbed a leaf between her fingers. She pulled free a generous handful of the hyssop with her free hand and turned to walk back downstream.

Marissa carefully picked her way among the rocks until she spotted a flat boulder near the stream's edge. She set down the roll of fabric on the stone's warm surface then hobbled over a few steps to the shallow water. Crouched at the knees she dipped both hands into the cool steam, carefully keeping the leaves between her palms as they were washed clean. When her hands began to sting from the icy current she withdrew and shook the leaves free of excess water. Still squatting next to the stream she lifted her cupped palms to her nose and inhaled deeply, the refreshing scent of mint tickling her sinuses. Its reassurance went a long way to abate her apprehension over the ease at which she'd decided this plant, hyssop, would help her ailment. The herbal knowledge she'd gained from Chichiri was immense; she could hardly believe her good fortune at learning such a necessary survival technique in a world like this. But sometimes the knowledge worried her, the way she was able to identify a plant so easily, or know its healing properties just from a taste.

The persistent pain in her legs banished the thoughts from her mind and with careful precision she began slowly crushing and ripping the leaves between her hands, tossing away the thin spine of each leaf once it was free of its fleshly counterpart. She was working on the second to last leaf when the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in sudden awareness. She slowed her methodical shredding and opened her senses, probing cautiously for any nearby auras. Rather quickly she encountered one and breathed a little sigh of relief. Somewhere behind her and a little downstream Chichiri's maroon aura pulsed like a warm beacon of light on the ethereal plane. She couldn't tell if he was moving closer or away, but she did know that if she peered too closely he would sniff out her presence like a hunting hound and come looking to see why she was poking around so noticeably.

Her knees were beginning to wobble in their awkward position so she stood upright, the ends of her dress falling to brush the sides of her calves while her legs stood shoulder-length apart on the rocky ground. Casting her gaze across the river bed she found herself momentarily struck with a deep sense of tranquility. No matter how many natural streams, rivers, lakes, and valleys she looked upon, the beauty of this world seemed to enjoy striking her at unexpected moments with its pristine existence. Something deep inside her always mourned the knowledge that in the not so distance future, peaceful sights like this would be nothing but long descriptions told in stories. The knowledge of Chichiri's presence was forgotten as she stepped back towards the flat rock.

The roll of bandages sat where she'd left them, and with a slow descent she perched herself on the edge of the boulder beside them, feet flat on the ground and knees apart. Not even concerned for her own modesty at this point, she flipped up the ends of her dress with her pinkies while her palms stayed cupped around the sticky concoction of shredded hyssops leaves. She divided the paste in half, and with a resounding slap, placed both hands over the red wounds on her inner thighs.

Marissa hissed aloud as the sharp bite of the hyssop met her raw skin. "Youch," she muttered, rubbing the pulpy mixture into the rough abrasions. After a few minutes the clear sap began to harden, creating an interesting menagerie of green and red against her pale skin. She peeled her fingers free of the sticky layer and reached around for the roll of fabric when a noise startled her into dropping it to the ground.

"Mari-chan, what…" There was a crunch of gravel as the owner's feet stepped closer. "Er, what are you _doing_ no da?"

Marissa retrieved the bundle off the ground and looked back at Chichiri over her shoulder. "Don't do that, you scared me!"

"Sorry no da," he apologized, with a half-smile, and took a few steps closer to the rock. "What are you…"

"Doing?" Marissa finished, beginning to unwrap a strip of fabric from the roll. "It's nothing, just a few cuts from horseback riding. I'll be fine once I get them wrapped up."

Chichiri stayed silent behind her as she ripped free a length of bandage with the edge of her teeth. She began wrapping her left leg, then stilled when he took a small step closer. A little wave of self-consciousness compelled her to pull down the opposite edge of her dress, hiding the pale length of unbandaged leg from view. She finished with the first leg and tied a little knot near the bottom of the wrappings, struck for a moment by the similarities between the appearance of her first injury and these minor ones.

"They're not bad, are they no da?" Chichiri asked suddenly, snapping Marissa out of her reverie.

She shook her head and tore off another length of bandage with her teeth. "Just some little scratches," she lied, turning to the side a bit as she pulled back the hem of her dress.

"Mari-chan," he said, suddenly a lot closer to her shoulder. "Those are not 'little scratches' no da."

She looked up to see her guardian standing next to her left side and looking down at her exposed thigh with a heavy expression of worry. She hadn't even heard him move that time, the sneaky monk. His apparent concern over her injury squashed her first impulse to cover herself and argue over the severity of her wounds. Instead she sighed and laid one end of the fabric against her leg. "It'll get better," she protested stubbornly.

"What is that stuff no da?" he interrupted before she'd completed her first pass with the bandage.

"Hyssop." She lifted her left hand to show the dried bits of green leaves still stuck to the skin on her palm.

Unexpectedly, Chichiri grasped her wrist and peered closer at the mess on her hand. His nose gave a visible twitch when it got within a few inches of her palm. "It smells like hakka no da."

"We call it mint," Marissa explained, her eyes glued to the fingers which had taken hold of her hand. The process of wrapping her other leg was momentarily forgotten, swept aside by the warmth that was spreading to her cheeks at their skin to skin contact. His tanned fingers gentled their hold on her wrist and moved to cup the back of her knuckles. Slowly, his other hand came forward and picked a piece of the dried hyssop off her skin, which caused Marissa's fingers to twitch convulsively at the ticklish contact.

"What did you do to it no da?" His voice came from somewhere over her head. A heavy weight settled in the pit of her stomach, and it felt as if few forces on earth could have lifted her face from the sight of her hand being cradled by Chichiri's larger and more muscular one at that moment.

She answered more softly than she'd intended to, but all the blood in her body was quickly rushing away from the places where she needed it most. "I shredded it."

His free hand returned to her palm and gently scratched away another piece of the hardened sap. "You're going to have to wash your hands no da," he teased reproachfully.

Marissa nodded mutely as she watched, transfixed, his finger tips fleck away the dried hyssop, tingles of ticklish excitement zipping through her palm and spreading quickly to the rest of her body. The hand under hers was a feather light hold that she could have pulled out of already, but it felt so much more enjoyable to let him have his way and doctor her hand with those gentle touches. The frissons of awareness on her nerve endings were increasing upon each graze of his short nails and every feather light sweep the pads of his fingers made against her skin. She felt goose bumps raise the hairs on her arm and had to fight off the impulse to do something foolish, like grab Chichiri's hand and pull him down for a kiss. One long index finger touched a particularly sensitive spot at the center of her palm and her hand clenched in surprise, causing it to slip from his hold and dispelling her brief fantasy.

Keeping her head bowed she cleared her throat softly and rubbed the palm of her left hand on the fabric of her dress. "I will, once I'm done."

Still blushing and feeling even more self-conscious, Marissa quickly completed the bindings. She wasn't quite able to stop feeling of resentment that welled up while she disparaged over the ugly paleness of her legs and the cracked skin on the back of her hands. She'd never gotten the chance to get a summer tan and looked like an albino under all the clothing she was forced to wear. Her nails were breaking as fast as she could grow them and her shins were covered with nick marks from learning to shave with a blade half as big as her hand. A hot bath would be the least she could ask for to wash away the grime and sweat from traveling, not to mention her hair had to look atrocious from sleeping with it in a bun.

Her fingers secured a knot near the edge of the bandages then moved to pull the hem of her dress over her knees. She felt a little better seeing the white limbs disappear again. Straightening her back, her hands moved to uncoil her oily hair and resecure the bun she'd twisted it into the day before. While doing this, her eyes stole upwards to Chichiri only once, and she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed that his gaze was politely averted downstream.

With her hair fixed as best she could by touch alone, Marissa stood up. "I'm done."

She took several bowlegged steps to the edge of the stream and crouched down to wash her hands in the chilly water. _I think I'd sell my soul to Tenkou for a bar of soap at this point,_ she thought wryly as she used her uneven nails to scrape away the remaining bits of sap and leaves.

Upon rising she was startled to feel a steady hand take hold of the back of her elbow. Looking up, Chichiri's smiling masked face gazed back with a quirky lifted eyebrow. "You look like you could use a little help getting back to camp no da," he explained.

Marissa meekly smiled her thanks and let herself be led away. Despite her awkward, waddling steps, Chichiri kept a sympathetic pace at her side that seemed to be in no rush to return to the campsite. They made their way off the stream bed and back through the line of trees, the cooler temperature of the forest falling upon the pair. The calming quiet of rustling leaves and twittering birds helped to lift the prior tension from Marissa's shoulders, enough that she rather quickly found herself fighting off the urge to lean into Chichiri's side. It was deceptively easy to forget the troubles of the world and pretend that they were just a man and a woman walking through a grove of trees arm in arm. Whether the walk was romantic or not, it seemed safe to assume that they both valued the other's company and companionship. So was it so wrong for her to hope, just the tiniest little bit, that something deeper could develop between them? Each day she was finding it harder to help loving him, despite all of Chichiri's insecurities and personal demons. He was dark and light parts mixed together quite confusingly at times, but overall he was a good man with a soft smile that melted her heart each time she saw it.

It pained her to think of how the reclusive monk might look through everyone else's eyes - a man closed up tighter than a clam and almost hell-bent on destroying himself through guilt and misguided repentance. Had any of the seishi experienced the same frustration of trying to knock through Chichiri's stoic barriers? How many people besides Tasuki would have been willing to have this introverted man be a close friend? Could she have even survived this long around him without the prior knowledge of his future? Their friendship had suffered enough as it was just from the tight shell he kept around himself, regardless of the fact that she knew things about him even he himself wasn't aware of yet. Could she really do it? Keep on standing by, hiding her feelings, just for the chance to see if he'd accept her love after being forgiven by Hikou? Surely that burden being lifted would be enough to encourage him to live, to stop leading a half-life of duty and servitude, but would Chichiri be ready to love? Would he want to love? Would he want to love _her_?

Marissa inhaled deeply at the startling thought and found her feet stumbling underneath her, catching on a fallen log over their path. The firm hand under her elbow moved to grip her upper arm and she was pulled in a steadying move closer to Chichiri's side, their hips bumping briefly.

The near contact sent a thrum of butterflies into her lower belly and tinted her cheeks pink. "Sorry, clumsy feet," she apologized quietly, attempting to dispel her embarrassment, which earned her a low chuckle from the seishi.

"It's okay to need help every once in awhile no da."

Marissa couldn't help but smile at those simple words. "I think you would have been a knight in shining armor in another life."

"Why would the night be wearing armor no da?"

She grinned and picked up the edge of her dress to step around another fallen tree. "Not the night, a knight, it's a warrior like a seishi who goes around rescuing pretty girls from dragons and high towers."

"But I am a seishi no da," he replied, a teasing lit to his high voice.

Marissa laughed and gave in to the impulse to bump her shoulder against his. However she wasn't expecting the fingers behind her arm to suddenly wiggle playfully, and quite ticklishly. With a shriek she yanked her arm free and moved to the side just in time to avoid her arm being retaken by his seeking hand.

"No tickling!" she protested, and for good measure crossed her arms and tucked her hands under her armpits.

Chichiri returned her wounded look with a smile that seemed to be fighting to stay small and unrevealing. In an unexpected gesture he bowed at the waist and held his hands out placatingly. "No more tickling, I promise no da."

Not entirely convinced, Marissa lifted her chin with a toss of her hair and turned about to continue back to camp, both hands still firmly planted under her arms. Chichiri joined her on her right side once more and laid a light hand between her shoulder blades, the feather touch lifting the hairs on the back of her neck. It was both the threat of another tickling and the simple contact of his hand on her sensitized body.

Unaware of even doing it, her forward steps took her closer to his side, and the hand on her shoulder slowly fell towards her lower back, a light but reassuring contact. That much closer, she could detect that Chichiri smelled of pine trees, dirt, sweat, and horse, which was probably no different than the way she smelled to him. But underneath all that was another scent, something musky and masculine that she was able to recognize as his somewhere deep in her bones. The closest thing she could attribute to it was that of freshly fallen rain, the way the wind smelled before even the first drop tumbled from the sky, something new, mysterious, and pure.

_I could drown in this smell,_ she thought headily, and a bit sadly.

They were nearing the campsite now, the smoke from their cooking fire hanging more strongly on the air each step they took closer. But before they could see it through the trees the hand on Marissa's back moved to her elbow and pulled her to a gentle stop.

Marissa turned to look up at the masked seishi, her heart doing a somersault at his sudden serious expression. "What is it?"

"I want to ask you something before we go back no da."

She took a small step backwards out of the personal space they had created over the last few minutes and waited silently for him to continue.

"You said last night that you knew about my past no da. I don't need to know how you knew, but I was hoping you could tell me... how much you know. It would… I would be very grateful no da."

The butterflies that had been floating through her stomach seconds before abruptly turned into a hard rock of dread. She withdrew her arm out of his gentle hold. "I won't tell Tasuki anything, if that's what you mean," she said quickly.

His masked face took on a pinched, anguished expression. "It's not that no da. I need to know how much you know. This means a lot to me, Mari-chan."

Understanding clicked in Marissa's head. He was very worried, afraid for how much she might know about his past. If she was aware that he had come close to murdering his best friend. For the first time in their friendship, she realized that she would have to outright lie to the man she loved, and the thought nearly broke her heart in two.

"Well..." She swallowed the lump in her throat and quickly collected her thoughts. "You grew up with two best friends since you were very young. When you were older, you became engaged to the girl. I think her name was Korin, or Koran. When your other friend found out you were engaged you guys had an argument, I guess there was a misunderstanding. But a terrible flood came through your village before you could be married to her, and you ended up being the only survivor. You've been blaming yourself ever since for the deaths of your best friends and family."

Chichiri watched her silently for a moment, and then nodded. "Is that all?"

"Was there more?" she asked, feigning curiosity. _God, I feel sick doing this._

"Some," he answered slowly, and looked for a moment as though he wanted to say more. Instead, he stepped aside and held out his hand to take her arm again. "Nothing that's important no da," he finished with a waver that belied his cheerful tone.

Marissa allowed herself to be guided back to the campsite and tried her best not to hang her head in shame over the lie she'd just told. Emerging through the trees she was greeted by the sight of Tasuki standing beside the campfire, his bedroll under one arm and her discarded pair of pants in his other hand.

"Hey those are mine!" Marissa exclaimed, leaving Chichiri's side to step gingerly towards the other seishi.

"I wasn't doin nothing! They were jus' layin there on yer empty bed. An' where've ya two been anyway?"

Marissa snatched the gray pants from Tasuki's fingers. "None of your business, and don't touch my stuff you weirdo."

Tasuki side stepped her halfhearted swipe at his arm and skipped over to where Chichiri was skewering several freshly gutted fish. "What's gotten inta ne-chan, Chiri?" he asked in annoyance.

"I have no idea no da," Chichiri replied automatically, a faraway look of befuddlement on his masked face.

The orange-haired seishi snorted and turned to look at Marissa, who was having difficulty with putting her pants back on over her bowed legs. "Were ya runnin 'round naked out there?" Tasuki asked incredulously.

"I was not!" she retorted immediately.

"But why ya walkin all funny?"

Marissa rolled her eyes. "Because my legs hurt, why else?"

"But -" Tasuki paused and glanced down at Chichiri, who appeared to be holding back a smile as he poked the cooking fire under their breakfast. "Ohhh I see. Good job Chiri!" he exclaimed, giving the blue-haired monk a resounding slap on the back of his shoulder.

Chichiri caught himself before falling face first into the flames. "What are you talking about no da?"

"I always knew ya hadit in ya." Tasuki leered suggestively and gave Chichiri another nudge with the corner of his elbow.

In sudden understanding, Chichiri's face turned bright pink. "Iiya no da! That is not what happened no da."

"What the heck are you talking about?" Marissa stepped towards the fire pit, cinching the strings on her pants into a tight knot, while she looked between the two men in confusion.

"It's nothing no -"

Tasuki suddenly moved to stand between them and gave Marissa the same leering look he'd given to Chichiri. "Dun worry ne-chan, bout time someone bedded that ole' geezer. He's bein way too crabby lately."

Marissa's mouth flopped open in surprise before her cheeks flushed a bright pink to match that of Chichiri's. "What! I didn't - we did not do that!"

"It ain't a problem!" Tasuki pressed on, turning to the side to lay a hand over each of their shoulders. "Ya dimwits finally gotit together n realized what I been sayin all 'long, I mean ya'd hafta be stupid not ta see how much ya two wanna jump on -"

In rising horror and embarrassment Marissa dealt a hard kick to Tasuki's shin and watched in satisfaction as he howled and hopped across the dirt away from her raised foot.

"Oh boy no da," Chichiri's meek voice floated up from somewhere around her knees.

Still blushing fiercely, Marissa couldn't think of a better way to sum up how embarrassing that had been. Back straight, she turned away from the cursing bandit and went to pack up her bedroll.

= = = = = = =

Marissa stared at the hand being held out to her at eye level and fought back the urge to snap at it with her teeth. "This is really unnecessary you guys..."

"Oh jus' shut up an get on," Tasuki cut in impatiently from behind her.

She swiveled around and glared at the conspiring grin that was plastered across Tasuki's face. Her teeth were starting to make a horrible grinding sound while she spoke. "I can walk just fine."

"Ya been draggin yer feet for th' last hour baka," he retorted easily.

"I don't see why that means-"

Her protests were cut off mid-sentence by Chichiri's gentle voice. "Mari-chan, we can't keep up a good pace with you walking. I'm sorry, but you have to ride with one of us no da."

Marissa faced her mentor and pouted dramatically. "Just let me try to ride Hou sidesaddle again, please?"

"Sure! I wanna watch ya fall flat on yer ass ag'in." Tasuki laughed mockingly and was oblivious to the spiteful stare Marissa flashed his way for the jab.

She had been so sure that she could manage to walk the next portion of their trip without much trouble. The insides of her legs were still smarting from being on a horse for nearly two days straight, but the hyssop had taken away most of the sting and they seemed to be on the mend. It was her feet and untrained legs she hadn't counted on letting her down. Her feet had started to burn within the first half-hour after they'd set out, and in less than an hour her calves were aching and dragging her steps farther and farther back. When Chichiri and Tasuki had finally noticed her slack she had been almost a hundred feet behind them and using Hou's bridle to carry herself along.

Her next solution had been to ride sidesaddle, but it quickly became apparent that Chinese saddles were not like Western ones, and without a horn to put one leg over she nearly fell flat on her back after the first attempt. Both tries after that proved just as unsuccessful, for even when she managed to sit still on the saddle the movement of Hou walking always managed to unseat her after a few steps. That had led to Tasuki's rather insinuating suggestion that she needed to join one of them on their mounts and continue the journey there. Of course, immediately after suggesting it, the orange-haired seishi had adamantly refused to allow her to ride with him.

Which left Chichiri, and the hand he was offering to help her into his... lap.

Marissa scuffed her sneaker against the dirt road and let out a low grumble that sounded close to a hex against Tasuki and any of his future offspring. She raised her eyes and gave Chichiri one last pleading look, which only earned her a stern head shake and his hand dipping lower to be accepted. Sighing in defeat, she dropped her hand into Chichiri's grip and allowed herself to be pulled up.

_You just have to look at this objectively, Mari,_ she commanded herself as Chichiri scooted back on the saddle to give her room to sit. _It's just a horse, and a ride that won't last any longer than a few hours. So what if you're in his lap, you won't be touching or even talking for that matter. Just watch the road and pretend you can't feel every little bump and bit of muscle pressed against your side._

When she was finally settled, Marissa was dismayed to feel Chichiri scoot closer, his legs coming to press snugly against her lower back and right thigh. She stiffened as his arms came around her to pick up the reins he'd left sitting against the stallion's neck, and when he returned his hands to their normal position his right one stopped only inches away from sitting in her own lap, directly in front of her stomach.

"Tasuki-kun, tie a leader to Hou and let her walk behind you no da."

The puff of air from his words landed directly on Marissa's right ear and caused her to squirm involuntarily, the ticklish air lifting the hairs on the back of her neck and cheek. Observing her movement, Chichiri chuckled softly and leaned forward, his next words spoken almost directly into her ear. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall off no da."

Before she could answer or move away, Chichiri kicked his horse into moving and she found her right shoulder pushed back against his chest. _Breathe Mari, breathe,_ she reminded herself. Lifting her head she concentrated on looking ahead of them down the road. _Scenery is nice, scenery is boring, scenery is a good distraction._

The next two hours did manage to pass uneventfully. Marissa eventually managed to trick herself into ignoring the warm, masculine body behind her, and Chichiri thankfully refrained from making any more comments into her neck. The few times she'd glanced over at Tasuki had gotten her a leering grin that explained without any words why he'd refused to let her ride with him. _The insufferable bastard, trying to play matchmaker, he's been having way too much time on his hands..._

A thought suddenly occurred to her that wanted to be voiced out loud. "Hey, I was wondering..."

Tasuki snorted from across the road. "Took ya long enuff to ask somethin, ne-chan."

Marissa poked her tongue out at the seishi before she could quell the childish impulse. "It's not that I'm hoping this will happen or anything, but why haven't we seen any monsters on the road? Or bandits? Or evil guys trying to take over the world? I thought you two drew trouble to yourselves like giant magnets."

"Mag-nets no da?" Chichiri asked in confusion from somewhere behind her head.

Marissa twisted a bit in her seat to look at Chichiri and switched to English. "Sorry. Its two objects that have a strong attractive force between each other, even over great distances."

"Sugoi no da. What are they made out of no da?"

"Well if we had some iron -" she began, beginning to warm to the subject.

"Oi!" Tasuki interrupted loudly. "Do I get ta answer th' fuckin question or what?"

Chichiri and Marissa turned their heads to blink at Tasuki. "Sorry, yes, please do," Marissa answered quickly, smothering a grin.

Tasuki puffed out his chest with self importance. "Figures ya been listenin' ta too many wives tales, ne-chan. Bandits dun do raids unless a village ain't payin their dues. Monsters ain't like ants poppin up e'erywhere. Ya gotta have sum evil guy prolly creatin an' controlin the buggers. An' since th' war ended, ain't been much shit goin on that normal people can't take care o'themselves. Dun think they'd be wantin ta cause more problems, do ya?"

Marissa felt a blush creeping across her cheeks as the idiocy of her question occurred to her. _Well I feel stupid._ Though truthfully it wasn't entirely her fault for thinking dramatic events like that was common in the world. It was becoming apparent that Watase had only bothered to show the excitement and the evil-doings, never the normal day-to-day things that had gone on around the seishi. "Ok you're right," she admitted. "It was a silly question."

Despite Tasuki's reassurances however, it seemed irony was never far away to prove everyone horribly wrong. Not an hour later as they were cresting the top of a low hill, a dark cloud of dust appeared on the horizon. Marissa, who had been taking the easy canter to watch the trees and distract herself from thoughts of Chichiri's well-toned chest, didn't become aware of the approaching cloud until Tasuki pulled up alongside their mount.

"Well?" the bandit prompted darkly, his amber gaze level with Chichiri.

"About twenty, maybe twenty-five no da," Chichiri informed him, the cheerful expression on his mask gone and replaced by a look of worried concentration. "Their auras are scattered, but they seem happy, thrilled even. They're also armed no da."

"Merchants?" Tasuki offered hopefully while at the same time loosening the holster on his back.

Chichiri shook his head gravely. "I don't think so no da."

By now Marissa was watching the exchange with intense curiosity and took the break in the conversation to butt in. "Twenty what?"

"Of yer bandits," Tasuki replied with a wink and a grin.

Marissa's stomach took an unexpected downfall and landed somewhere around her ankles as Tasuki's words hit home. Were all of her stupid fears about bandits and monsters actually going to come true? Heart beating fast she sat up straight and noticed with dismay that they were still moving at the same pace they'd been before the group was spotted. "Why aren't we stopping?" she demanded, glancing down the road at the dust that was now only, at most, two leagues away. Brown specs were starting to come through the cloud and the sounds of clomping hooves were growing louder like a distant thunder.

"Aw come on, ne-chan," Tasuki wheedled, tugging the tessen out of its holster on his back and resting it across his knees. "Ya dun wanna have alittle fun?"

"Not really," she squeaked. With wide eyes she looked up pleadingly at Chichiri. "Can we turn around, or hide? I don't want something to happen. Please?"

Though he didn't look down at her, she could see the expressions of worry and anxiety crossing his mask clearly. "Marissa's right no da. We're not going to face them with just the three of us. Come on no da." With a hard tug on his reins Chichiri halted his horse and turned it completely around. Giving the stallion a hard kick to his flank, the horse took off at a fast gallop back the way they'd come. Tasuki's muttered cursing about cowards and pansy women reached their ears before he too redirected his horse to follow close on their heels.

Marissa was getting jarred heavily from the fast pace and was immensely grateful when Chichiri's left arm circled her waist to keep her held firm against his chest. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, like how far were they going to run, and when would they get there, and if there was possibly another road they could take. They hadn't passed any other villages or towns since leaving camp that morning, which meant the closest town was all the way back in Lian. There was always the fork in the road leading to where Shoryuu had once been, but she had no idea if that led to anything closer.

Turning her head to look back over Chichiri's shoulder, Marissa let out a loud gasp at the sight of the cloud of horses now much closer then it had been a few minutes earlier. Her riding partner must have heard her cry out, for he too twisted around in his saddle and stiffened noticeably at the sight closing in behind them on the road.

"Tasuki, we've been spotted no da!" he called out to the other seishi.

"Yosha!" With typical foolhardy bravery, Tasuki pulled his horse to an abrupt stop and swerved around, now facing the oncoming mass of dust and hooves.

Marissa was startled to hear a low growl of frustration come from her companion, before they too came to a dead stop on the road that left her cheek pressed tightly against his prayer beads. Turning their mount around, Chichiri galloped back to Tasuki's side while cursing softly under his breath.

"This is no time to be stupid no da!" he exclaimed when they reached the fire seishi, who looked positively gleeful at the challenge of facing off against unfavorable odds.

Marissa began to tremble in fear as the herd suddenly bore down upon them, a wall of dark faces, winded horses, and metal weapons and armor flashing in the sunlight. A loud battle cry rose up out of the sound of pounding hooves and clanging tack, but whether the sound came from the riders or Tasuki she couldn't tell.

A familiar roar of words pierced through the din and flames spewed forth like a living wall to envelop the front line of riders. There were screams, startled whinnies, and the smell of charred flesh and burning leather. Through the smoke she saw a horse and rider go down, both aflame. But behind them came more riders and the smell of dirt, sweat, and smoke became almost unbearable.

Behind her and near her right ear she could barely hear Chichiri chanting, mumbled words that raised the hairs on her skin as her senses recognized the growing power being collected by the shichiseishi. Abruptly a sea of horses were crashed around them, each one holding a rider that swung and shouted and made a grab for her arms and legs. She almost slipped off once between the crushing press of bodies, but the strong grip around her waist by Chichiri's hand kept her rooted to the saddle. She looked over the dark faces frantically and saw Tasuki swinging wildly into the crowd, when suddenly he fell and disappeared, his outraged voice swearing over the mob.

Marissa cried out in alarm as the seishi slipped from view. A heavy force suddenly knocked into her from behind, and the arm around her slackened as Chichiri slumped limply against her side. She twisted in her seat and attempted to put out her arms to catch his descent, but before she even got a handful of his shirt several rough hands grabbed her body and hauled her completely off the back of their horse. She screamed quite loudly then and kicked wildly, feeling at least two pairs of hands pin her arms and keep a firm hold around her upper body.

With tearful eyes she looked back and watched Chichiri's body slump over the neck of his horse, then continue to fall until it disappeared over the side of his mount. She couldn't see where he'd landed in all the dust and horses, but a collective shout of glee rose up from her captors when it appeared the seishi wasn't getting back up.

Despite her intense kicking, her hands were roughly bound behind her back and a gag was slipped over her mouth to silence her screams. She was pushed down over the neck of another horse, her stomach pressing painfully against the saddle and someone's armored legs. Lifting her head defiantly she looked across the throng of riders and saw a familiar streak of orange hair pass on another horse, similarly slumped over his captor's saddle, but unmoving. With a panicked sort of detachment, she watched several men round up their three horses and tie them to the back of their mounts.

With the successful capture of their party the armed riders subdued their frenzied movements and appeared to be maneuvering into an organized formation. The dust was also beginning to clear by a swift, cool wind that swept through the area for several long seconds, swirling the scent of sweat, dirt, and horses even more strongly around the group. The smell threatened to make Marissa sick, but she tried her hardest to stay as still as possible beyond the bouncing of the horse beneath her. She had given up squirming after feeling a heavy, sharp object press against her lower back in warning when she'd tried to worm her way off the saddle the first time.

They cantered a long distance past trees and landmarks she recalled seeing before, and then took a road she didn't recognize and began moving towards the northeast. For the duration of their trip she focused on scanning the congregation of horses intently, Tasuki's unconscious form remaining just out of her peripheral vision towards the back of the group. She tried her best to remain calm, to stay detached, and found herself feeling lucky that her captor's hands seemed to stay to himself over the duration of their journey. It wasn't until much later, when the bandits finally stopped to set up camp in the setting light of the sun, that she discovered to her dismay Chichiri hadn't been taken captive along with her and Tasuki. Unable to stop the sobs around her dirty gag, she let herself cry.

A/N: It's amazing how fast I can write while being threatened with my head getting put on a pike. Chapter 4's revisions are going to be posted before I work on chapter 19. Sorry :) 


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